


This is the Why

by icanhearyouglaring



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Humor, Romance, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8604235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icanhearyouglaring/pseuds/icanhearyouglaring
Summary: It has to be a trick of the mind, or indigestion from last night's Big Belly Burger, because there is absolutely no way Wally West could have that kind of an effect on her. Ever. Wally/Artemis





	1. Chapter 1

pt.1

the one with the woosh

-

One second, she’s telling Megan about her painfully boring summer; the next, she’s picking her jaw up off the floor. She considers getting her eyes checked because there’s no way the crisp piece of man-meat that just walked through the double doors is Wally- _friggin_ -West. He waves, and she waves back- thoroughly convinced his ‘stay at summer camp’ was actually a front for Extreme Makeover: Dweeb Edition.

Before she can tell him _exactly_ that, the first bell rings and he takes off towards the eight o’clock AP Physics class he complained about in his letters all summer. His hair _wooshes_ as he rounds the corner. Artemis racks her brain to figure out when the hell it started doing _that_.

“Did you see that?” Artemis’s stunned eyes snap back to Megan.

“See what?” Megan turns away from organizing her locker to look at Artemis.

“ _That,”_ Artemis clarifies, waving a hand at the doorway as the second bell rings. A few kids run inside, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to get to class. 

“The two-minute rush?” Megan asks, shutting her locker carefully. The pictures of her summer trip to Chicago still fall from where she taped them inside the door. She sighs, defeated.

 “ _No_ , it was- the woosh-... nevermind,” she grumbles, picking her backpack off the floor. “Let’s just go. Wouldn’t want to keep Carr waiting.”

 As they walk to class, Artemis struggles to shake off the strange bubbling of excitement and anxiety she felt in her chest when Wally waved at her in the hallway. It has to be a trick of the mind, or indigestion from last night’s Big Belly Burger, because there is absolutely no way Wally West could have that kind of effect on her. Ever.

 

* * *

 

 She’s proven _very_ wrong at lunch.

 When her fingers hit the cold metal of the lunch table instead of her food, she comes to realize just what kind of an effect Wally has on her. She tears her eyes away from where he’s chatting with his track friends to rejoin her own group’s conversation, only to find half of them gone and the other half staring at her...staring at Wally. _Shit._

 “Where’d it go?” Artemis asks, quickly pointing at the spot her pistachio bag once occupied.

 “I’m sorry.” Karen pulls the bag out from behind her back. Instead of giving it back, she tosses it to Megan across the table. “You have eaten _fifty-seven_ pistachios in the last five minutes. We’re cutting you off.”

 “You were _counting_?” Artemis asks in disbelief.

 “We couldn’t look away,” Megan admits, her concerned eyes glancing from Artemis to the bag. “It was like a car accident. We had to step in.”

 Karen nods. “I could’ve thrown a pebble in there and you would have eaten it. You were so zoned out.”

 “Yeah, zoned out,” Artemis repeats, nodding quickly. ‘Zoned out’ is better than ‘honed in on a certain redheaded track star’. She couldn’t help it, really. She’d already spent half the morning trying to find the moment when Wally West, the patron saint of bad pick-up lines and geekhood, became, dare-she-say, _desirable_ to her. Sneaking glances at him throughout lunch didn’t clear anything up. If anything, it made her painfully more aware of the new tan and pronounced freckles on his face. His hair kept _wooshing_ every time he threw his head back to laugh at some (probably) immature joke. It was _awful_. “Thanks for not feeding me rocks. Where are Bette and Wendy?”

 “Where _aren’t_ they? They’re running around campus introducing themselves to everyone _again_. Wendy’s running for homecoming coordinator this year and Bette wants to be a princess.” Karen goes on to discuss the controversy surrounding the janitor and last year’s vote processing, but all Artemis can think about is the fact she has history class with Wally after lunch. A copy of his schedule is bunched up at the bottom of her backpack, still right where she threw it after it fell out of his last letter. She sneaks one last glance at him from across the yard before throwing out the PG-13 thoughts that keep invading her mind whenever she looks at him.

 She resolves to keep them away for the rest of the day, or at least until she can figure out why the hell they even exist.

 It’s easier said than done.

 

* * *

 

 History goes better than expected, mostly because she expected the worst. 

Ms. Lance lets them sit wherever they’d like and Wally chooses the seat directly behind her at the back of the room. For the first half of class, she’s perfectly fine with the arrangement. Out of sight, out of mind. She’s never been more interested in 18th century New York. Then a folded up note falls onto her desk as Wally passes by to “sharpen a pencil” and all hope of making it through class without _thoughts_ disappears. Ms. Lance definitely sees his attempt at slight of hand, if the look she gives Artemis is anything to go by. Artemis sends her an apologetic shrug before slipping the note into her lap and hoping for mercy. Ms. Lance lets it slide and goes on with her lecture, most likely because Artemis babysat for her and Coach Oliver over the summer. Those seemingly endless hours defusing the Ticking Tantrum Bomb (also known as Sin) paid off in more ways than one.

The second Ms. Lance flips the lights off and presses play on the cheesy “Welcome Back” video the student leaders put together over summer, Artemis flips open Wally’s note and smothers a smile.

‘ _Nice to finally see you today, even if it is the back of your head_ . _Sorry I couldn’t stop and talk this morning. Of course my alarm didn’t go off on the first day of school. Just my luck. Anyways, I owe you one (maybe even two). I barely avoided getting_ _Mean Janine_ _as my lab partner. Cross intervened, just like you said he would. I hope you’ll tell me how you have all the teachers wrapped around your finger someday. On that note, Help Me! I’m begging (again)! Please tell me you have an in with the new librarian, Artemis. I forgot to return my bio book before I went to camp and now I owe like thirty dollars in late fees. Jenni would’ve voided them but she’s gone and the new lady honestly scares me a little. Save me. P.S. Conner is my lab partner now. He was reluctant at first, but I told him it wouldn’t be like Chem and he believed me... he’s too trusting... that poor kid...’_

Artemis moves the paper onto the desk and tucks it into the pages of her notebook. She pens her reply with unprecedented care, pretending to take notes on the reading schedule Ms. Lance has outlined on the board.

‘ _Let’s be real; you owe me at least seven by now. And keep hoping. It’s a trade secret. (By the way, Ms. Lance totally saw you pass this note. You aren’t stealthy. She didn’t chew you out because of me. That makes eight.) As much as I’d love to have you grovel at my feet, you should know that Jesse (new librarian) is extremely nice. You should be begging her for help, not me. And try not to hurt Conner. He’s too pretty, and Megan will be upset if he has a black eye in their homecoming pictures. I won’t be able to save you from her. Speaking of Megan, are you going to her party next Saturday or not? RSVP-ing is a thing, you know? Don’t write back. I don’t think Lance will let you get away if she catches you a second time. Tell me after class. I’ll let Megan know.’_

Artemis reads over her words twice before scrawling a quick ‘ _P.S. Welcome back, West’_ at the bottom of the paper. She folds the note back up, tucks it in her palm, and makes sure Ms. Lance is facing the board before fake-tucking a stray hair behind her ear and tossing the note onto Wally’s desk behind her in one fluid motion. _That’s how you do it,_ she smiles to herself.

When the bell rings, Artemis turns around in her seat and immediately regrets it. _Too close._

“Hey,” Wally greets her with a bright smile and equally bright eyes. “I’m definitely going.” 

“Cool,” is all she replies before turning back around and stuffing her notebook into her backpack. _Stop it,_ she orders herself. _It’s just Wally._ She stands and puts on her backpack before nodding for him to follow her out of the classroom.

“I’ve got Prince next. You have... Kent last right?” He asks, examining a strip of paper he had pulled from his pocket. It’s the tiny copy of her schedule she sent in her last letter. “Nice.”

“Yeah. I got pretty lucky,” she says, smiling. “I could’ve gotten Hall. Or worse-” 

“ _Snart.”_ They say in unison, laughing as they pass by the coldest classroom on campus. One prepared student puts on a scarf as they enter the room.

“He does it on purpose, you know?” Artemis shakes her head. “He thinks that a colder environment makes you more focused on the task at hand.”

Wally rolls his eyes as they turn a corner. “When I was in his class, I was more focused on keeping my fingers and toes from turning blue than on the nuances of geography.” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” Artemis says with a snort. They reach a fork in the hall and stand near the lockers to avoid blocking hall traffic. It isn’t until the two-minute warning bell rings and people start speed-walking that they look at each other and sigh.

“I’ll see you later?” Artemis asks. Her hopeful tone surprises herself.

“Totally,” he says with a smile and a nod and Artemis feels the same bubbling excitement from the morning return with a vengeance. As he turns away to walk to class, his hair _wooshes_.

She takes a deep breath, strides towards Mr. Kent’s sunshine-filled classroom, and asks herself the question she’s been trying to answer all day.

 _What the hell was_ **_that_ ** _?_


	2. the one with the plans

pt.2

the one with the plans

-

It takes Artemis one embarrassingly long week to get a grip.

Once the initial shock of Shiny New Wally wears off, it becomes easier to go about her day without having _thoughts_ . By the end of the week, she can hold an entire conversation with him and not get distracted by his eyes, or his smile, or the _woosh (_ she still slips up on that one about 40% of the time, but no one is perfect and she’s never claimed to be). She even manages to insult his ego from time to time, just like the old days.

All is right with the world once more. At least it is in _Artemis’s_ world.

“And then he said-! He said-!” Megan’s words dissolve into hiccups before she covers her red face with her hands and cries.

Artemis carefully stretches across the arm of the couch to grab a near-empty box of tissues from a nearby shelf. Megan showing up at her house unannounced in the middle of the night isn’t unusual in the slightest. Megan showing up on a school night crying with ruined makeup, red eyes, and mismatched socks definitely is. Paula had almost had a heart attack when she opened the door to such a startling sight. She woke Artemis up with a single shout and led Megan to the living room before she rushed to the kitchen to make some tea (and escape teenage tears, but Artemis lets that slide).

“Megan, breathe,” Artemis instructs, rubbing gentle circles across Megan’s back. She offers up the tissue box before she asks, “What exactly did he say next?”

“He said, ‘ _I feel like I’m dating a stranger and I don’t know if I can d-do it anymore.’_ And then he _went back inside_!”

Megan tears a tissue out of the box and blows her nose loudly. Artemis looks to the doorway leading to the kitchen and tries to remember if she finished all the rocky road over the weekend. They’ll definitely be needing it soon.

“He broke up with me! And I think he means it. I really do.” Megan takes a short breath before turning to face Artemis. “He didn’t even turn around, not even a little bit. They _always_ turn around if they’re not sure.”

“Okay,” Artemis says slowly, searching her brain for something to say that won’t send Megan into another fit of tears, “two things. One, he never actually _said_ he wanted to break up.”

“It was _implied_.”

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Artemis suggests. “He was upset. Conner isn’t exactly the ‘King of Clear Decision Making’ when he’s mad.”

“I know that,” Megan says, looking at her with big, sad eyes and a wobbly pout, “but he didn’t turn around. And they always- but he didn’t-”

“This isn’t one of your daytime dramas, Megan,” Artemis says gently, handing her the last tissue in the box. “They don’t always turn around.”

Megan wipes at her eyes with the tissue, shakily sighing, “I know. It’d be so much easier if they did though. What’s the second thing?”

Artemis makes a show of throwing the empty tissue box into the trash to buy some much needed thinking time.

One con about having a best friend who is a way nicer sister-figure than your actual sister is having to come up with softer ways to tell them things they don’t want to hear. Whenever Artemis has to tell Jade bad news, she doesn’t waste energy trying to spare Jade’s feelings. In fact, on the rare occasions Jade actually gets caught breaking the rules, Artemis finds satisfaction in being the _first_ to let her know exactly how her plans were thwarted. Nine times out of ten Jade gets away with being Jade and when she doesn’t, she knows exactly how to cover her ass and get around whatever half-enforced punishment their mother doles out. That’s why saying ‘ _Mom knows you shaved the neighbor’s cat, and guess what, you’re grounded_ ’ and ‘ _Mrs. Reese saw you sneaking out through her yard last night and called Mom, have fun with that_ ’ isn’t a big deal with Jade. She doesn’t _care_. Nothing fazes her.

With Megan, Artemis has to be choosier with her words.

“Okay, two,” Artemis drawls out slowly, “he’s not exactly the only one in the wrong here.”

Megan’s eyes suddenly get a whole lot sharper. “What?”

“He said some hurtful stuff and that’s not cool, but what happened at the lighthouse Saturday wasn’t okay either,” Artemis says levelly. “Kara got hurt and she only tried out because you told Conner the team nixed the whole hazing thing after what happened last year. She’s his cousin- of course he’s going to be upset.”

“That is not my- I thought we went over this.” Megan’s cheeks turn red and she huffs. “Mareena and Karen didn’t tell me about bringing back the ice bucket. I thought we were going to start a new tradition, a nicer one, but by the time I found out what they set up inside, Kara and Stephanie were already getting iced. Kara was on her bike before any of us could stop her. I didn’t even know she was hurt until Conner called me, and he didn’t exactly give me a chance to explain before he hung up. And when I went to apologize to Kara on Sunday, he said she was at Stephanie’s house and shut the door in my face.”

“Wait, you went to his house the next day?” Artemis asks.

“Yeah, and when I went to Stephanie’s, she said Kara hadn’t talked to her all day. So he lied!” Megan pouts.

“That’s weird,” Artemis thinks aloud. “Conner’s always been the one to tell it like it is. Why would he lie?”

Megan nods quickly. “Exactly!”

“Unless...” Artemis begins carefully but stops herself.

“Unless what?”

Artemis asks, “Maybe Kara didn’t want to see you?”

Megan is quiet for a long moment before releasing a small _‘oh’_.

“Maybe she needs more time. I’m sure she hasn’t tried to talk to you at school.”

Megan sinks deeper into the old couch and her eyes begin to water again. “ _No one_ is trying to talk at school. Mareena and Karen are mad at me for not being on board and at each other for dropping the bucket on Kara. Stephanie is avoiding us. Raquel’s pissed at all of us for even stepping foot in the lighthouse. Wendy and Bette feel bad about Kara but they’re too wrapped up in elections to do anything about it. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed how awkward lunch has been. The whole team is in shambles and no one has apologized to anyone yet. I mean, I tried, but _Conner._ And then he wouldn’t talk to me about it until today. And even then, he refuses to hear me out. He just thinks I care more about the team than Kara or him, and that’s not right. It’s like yelling at a brick wall... and I don’t want to yell anymore.”

Artemis waits a beat before asking, “Should I beat him up? Make him talk?”

Megan looks at her with incredulous eyes. “ _Artemis-_ ”

“I could do it, you know. I have _connections_ ,” she says, half-serious, even though her only real ‘connection’ for something like that is Roy and he’d probably prefer if she didn’t ask him for a ride to Conner’s house at three in the morning on a school night. _Whatever_ . He owes her one ( _way_ more than one if she claims reparations for the mental scarring she received hiding his tryst with her sister from _her mom_ over the summer). “I could go right now. You want to go? Let’s go.”

“Artemis, that’s crazy talk-” Megan wipes at her nose with the remnants of the last tissue, failing to hide the tiny smile on her face.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Artemis interrupts her, placing her hands on Megan’s shoulders. “He’s a tank. He has the height and weight advantage. But have a little faith, Megan. I have skills _._ I’m a freakin’ ninja. He wouldn’t know what hit him.”

In a real fight (one which would never happen), Conner would crush her like a bug and she knows it, but if the thought of her swift, hypothetical victory pulls a laugh out of Megan, then she’ll have more than fulfilled her best friend-duties for the night. She doesn’t have a real solution- yet- but a tiny distraction is something she can definitely do for now.

Megan stares into her oh-so-serious eyes for all of three seconds before cracking a smile. She laughs shortly and drags Artemis into a quick, tight hug.

“What do I do now?” she asks after releasing the blonde. “I know I messed up, but it’s not like I can go back and change what happened.”

Artemis catches sight of her mother’s shadow in the kitchen doorway, slowly stands, and says, “Right now? You drink some tea- _and_ text Michelle. Tell her you’re here so she doesn’t flip out when she wakes up and you’re not home.”

Absolute fear replaces the sadness in Megan’s eyes and she makes a dive for the cell phone in her bag. Once worries about Megan’s most responsible sister are quelled, the girls move into the kitchen, thank Paula for the tea, and make Conner-less plans for school and the upcoming party.

* * *

 

They walk into school the next morning feeling more like super spies than students. Every corner, every hallway becomes an obstacle. Artemis stays glued to Megan’s side as they take every precaution to avoid running into Conner or his friends. It takes them an extra seven minutes and three hallways to get to Carr’s class without incident. They’re forced to cut through the band room, much to the annoyance of Mr. Rathaway, to get to Biology after Artemis spots Wally heading their way with a well-meaning, but unwanted determined glint in his eye.

_Nope._

After guiding Megan safely through the doorway of her third period class, Artemis spins around and marches towards the other redhead who has been tailing them all morning. As soon as he knows he’s been spotted, he turns around and starts walking away with his hands in his pockets. Artemis has no issues catching up to him and pulling his arm to make him face her.

“You’ve gotta stop being weird. I have enough of that going on,” she says firmly, releasing his arm in order to cross her own. “What do you want?”

Roy’s shoulders shift uncomfortably before he meets her eyes and sighs, “Well...”

 _Crap._ She knows _that_ look. The first time she saw _that_ look was over the summer, when he practically begged her not to tell Oliver about what he shouldn’t have been doing (with her _sister_ ) in the fancy, yellow car he shouldn’t have been driving. Artemis immediately regrets running after him. She should have known better.

“Oh, god, what is it this time?” she asks. For a moment, she contemplates walking away before things get weird(er), but the last time she left Roy to his own devices for an issue with her sister, he'd ended up breaking into her neighbor’s balcony and getting bitten by their dog.

Roy sticks his hands deeper into his pockets as he says, “I know I said last time was the last time, but I need you to call Jade and-”

“I am not calling her,” Artemis interrupts him, tightening the straps of her backpack. She takes note of the emptying hallway and prepares to speed walk to math class.

“ _Artemis_ -” he starts to whine, and that’s her cue to start walking.

“Nope. I am done being your middleman, Roy,” she says, passing him. He follows her. “Why don’t you call her yourself?”

“You know she likes to play her games,” he grumbles, and though that’s really enough to explain why he’s been following her around all morning, it doesn’t do much to help his case.

“Don’t I ever,” Artemis agrees, right as the first bell rings. “You’re going to be late. Hall’s going to hate you.”

“As if he hasn’t the last three years. Just find out if she’s coming home this weekend or not, okay?”

“Fine,” she groans, walking faster as she catches Mr. Langstrom start closing the door, “but you-”

“ _Owe you one._ I know.” Roy smiles and yanks on the end of her backpack strap before taking off at a jog in the opposite direction. “Thanks, Blondie.”

He won’t be thanking her when she shows him up at practice next week.

* * *

 

By the time history class rolls around, Artemis establishes three things. The first is that Conner never came to school, meaning their sneaking around all morning did nothing but get both her and Megan on the shitlist of no less than three teachers. The next is that being a neutral party sitting at a lunch table with a bunch of cheerleaders who will not directly talk to each other absolutely _sucks_. The last thing is that Wally West thinks he knows all the answers to life’s problems and won’t hesitate to help a friend in need of the aforementioned answers.

He deliberately kicks the back of her shoe. She knows it’s deliberate because he does it not once, not twice, but three times, with the tip of his shoe digging into her once clean, white shoe. Just before he can kick her a fourth time, she lifts the back of her foot and digs her heel on top of his toes. Artemis smiles and keeps taking notes while he holds back a hiss of pain. When he pulls his foot out from underneath, her heel doesn’t hit the floor like she expects. Instead, it lands on something thin and slippery. Her pen stills.

_He didn’t._

She slides her foot forward, pulling the scrap of paper under her shoe into view.

 _He did,_ Artemis rolls her eyes and casually drops her pen off the side of her desk. When she retrieves the pen, she brings the tiny note up with it. After quickly glancing at Ms. Lance, Artemis opens the ripped edge of paper and tucks it into her notebook, just above her notes.

_‘Can we talk after school?’_

_No, mind your own business, I’ve got this handled_ is what she wants to say, but before she can put her pen to paper, a bright flashing light and ear piercing siren go off in the room. Over the siren, Ms. Lance tells them to leave their things and follow her to the football field.

Artemis sighs and crumbles up the paper as she rises with the rest of the class.

Fire drills at Happy Harbor High are most aptly described as feats of organized chaos. The halls fill to the brim with students trying to stay with their classes (and those trying to pull fast ones over their teachers by joining another class). By the time everyone reaches the football field, there are at least six people mixed in with classes they shouldn’t be, eight kids getting yelled at to stay in their lines, and one class with a sub who thought it was a technical issue with the alarms who didn’t come outside at all.

“I guess we can talk now instead,” Wally says, after Ms. Lance tells them to sit down on the field and wait for the rest of the school to get their act together.

“I guess,” Artemis says, stretching her legs out over the cool grass. The feeling of the sun on her skin counters the chill that sets in this time of year.

“Conner came to my house last night.” Wally plucks a piece of grass and rips it into small strips as he talks. “He said Megan took off towards your place after they... talked. I assume I wasn’t the only one to get woken up today.”

“You assume correctly,” she says.

“So what’d she say?” he too casually asks.

Artemis sends him a level stare.

He shrugs. “It was worth a shot. Conner hasn’t missed a day of school since fifth grade, so he’s taking it harder than I thought.”

Artemis weaves her fingers in the unkempt patch of grass near her side. “It sucks.”

“Yeah,” Wally sighs dramatically. “It’s not like any of it was on purpose.”

Artemis purses her lips before nodding. “It’s complicated.”

Wally picks out another blade of grass before looking at her. “You know... if we could just-”

“Oh, no,” she says, aiming to put an end to his bright idea. “ _We’re_ not getting into that. Got it?”

“No, I don’t _got it_ .” Wally shakes his head. There’s a slight woosh. She wishes she didn’t notice. “They don’t _need_ to be upset. If we could just get Megan, Conner, and Kara in the same place, they could all talk it out. Get the truth. Clear the air.”

Artemis stays quiet as she crosses her legs and stares at the lone cloud in the sky. He’s right, and she knows it because that had been _her_ plan on a smaller scale. The issues weren’t limited to Megan, Conner, and Kara. Mareena, Karen, and the rest of the team were part of the mess. Artemis look back at Wally and he sits up straighter.

“Am I wrong?” he asks.

“Yes,” she answers, already regretting where this is going, “but not for the reason you think.”

“Explain, Wise One.”

“They’re not the only ones who need to talk. My friends are in-fighting over it. I was already planning to intervene tomorrow, but I think I just thought of a way to expand that intervention.”

“And that is?”

“It might be better if you don’t know all the details. You’d just have to get Conner and Kara to go to Megan’s party Saturday.”

“What?” Wally asks loudly. “The party? Do you seriously think Conner’s going to want to be anywhere near that?”

“It’ll sort itself out by then if all goes well tomorrow. And it will, because I’m not letting them start practice until they get over themselves.”

“I don’t know, Artemis,” he sighs slowly.

“Oh, when you say get them together, it’s a _perfect_ plan, but when _I_ say it, it’s ‘ _I don’t know, Artemis’_?” She rolls her eyes.

“I’m just saying- getting Conner to go is going to be harder than a Herculean task.”

Artemis fakes looking at her non-existent watch. “Then you’d better start today. The party starts at six o’clock sharp.”

“Party, you say?” An eavesdropping weasel speaks up from the next line over.

Artemis doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. She only turns around to send him a warning.

“No. No party. And even if there were a party, you wouldn’t be invited,” she clips icily.

Cameron rolls his eyes and scoots out of his line to get closer. He plops his feet in between Artemis and Wally.

“If you’re talking about the Morse party, then I’m so there.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Half the school is going.”

“And you’re in the half that isn’t,” Artemis says, throwing a clump of grass at his face. “Beat it, Cameron.”

“Only for you, Crock,” Cameron goads, moving his hand in a motion that better be simulating a shakeweight unless he wants to get a face full of fist.

Before Artemis can raise her fist, Wally puts a hand on her arm.

“Don’t. He’s not worth the detention,” he whispers, nodding towards Mr. Gardner as the man makes his way through their now distinctly uneven lines to force some semblance of order.

Cameron is forced to scoot back to his line, but Artemis mouths a quick ‘ _fuck you’_ to him as soon as the teacher passes.

The rage inside her dies down as she turns back to Wally. Her eyes flicker to the hand that’s still on her arm and she blames the warmth in her cheeks on the sun. It’s too bright.

She pulls her arm away to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “So, are you in?”

“I’m in,” Wally nods. “I can’t stand seeing one of my best buds like that.”

“Me either.”

When the all clear is given, Ms. Lance has them stand and wait for most of the other students to get back to their classes to avoid another hallway traffic jam (and losing anymore students).

Cameron turns around to give Artemis one last smirk before standing up to leave with his class.

Artemis crosses her arms and releases an angry sigh.

“It’s alright,” Wally quietly assures her, leaning over so only she can hear. “I tied his shoelaces together while you were talking.”

Watching Cameron faceplant into the grass is the saving grace of an otherwise terrible day.


	3. the one with the punch

pt. 3

the one with the punch

-

Jade doesn’t answer her phone. She never does. It is a Fact, one apparently known and accepted by everyone but Roy. So when Artemis calls and gets sent straight to voicemail, she’s got her whole spiel prepped and ready.

_Call Roy back or set him free. I’m done being your go-between and, as much fun as it was in the beginning, it’s getting harder to watch him grovel. Let Mom know you haven’t died. She worries. And if you are coming home this weekend, bring back my red hoodie. Demon Cat shredded the sleeves on my green one, so Mom’s turning it into a vest. So- yeah, maybe I’ll see you soon, maybe I won’t. Let me know... I mean it, Jade. A call. A text. Carrier pigeon. Anything. Later._

Satisfied, Artemis tosses her phone onto her bed and breathes deeply within the sanctity of her cotton-scented bedroom. The breeze that slips in through the crack in the weathered window that just won’t close reminds her summertime isn’t over and there is time to breathe, contrasting the voice in the back of her head telling her otherwise.

The world’s problems cannot be solved by one person; that is a lesson she learned too late in life- and she’s only sixteen. But hey, these are the kinds of “normal” problems she used to _dream_ of having.

Things might be bad now, but they were worse before the move. Some nights, when the walls of the old house creak and her mother is sound asleep, Artemis tiptoes through the halls with a bat in hand, if only to get some peace of mind that the haven they’ve built themselves in Happy Harbor is still safe. She hasn’t had one of those nights in a long while, but after a school day like the one she’s just endured, it’s bound to happen soon.

Artemis kicks off her shoes one by one before falling back on top of her secondhand mattress with a heavy sigh. The bed creaks loudly and bounces with her, causing her defenseless cell phone to fly into the air and fall straight off the side of the bed. Artemis inhales sharply, closes her eyes, and listens for the imminent sound of technology being beat by one of its greatest enemies: gravity.

The cracking sound never comes. Instead, the sound of papers crunching and a deep, cushioned thud send a wave of relief through her.

_Little blessings,_ she thinks as she sits up and scrambles to the edge of the bed to see exactly what her phone used as a crash pad.

A lidless shoebox, half tucked under the bed and filled to the brim with envelopes, is her phone’s unwitting hero. Artemis stretches over the side of the bed and decides to bring the whole box up with her. She picks out her pristine phone along with one of the envelopes, which she turns her attention to after carefully placing the phone on the bedside table.

Written on the lower right hand side, in what she jokes future archeologists might classify as its own language, is her name. The stamp at the top has a picture of a snowman, clashing with the postmark date that reads mid-June. Without a second thought, Artemis pulls the folded letter out of the envelope and starts reading.

 

_Art-e-menace,_

_As much as your last letter made me want to hurl, I’ve been exposed to something that makes me want to do that and more. It’s happened. It’s finally happened. I have met the man who is to be my mortal enemy for all of eternity. His name is Hunter Zolomon (while you’re laughing about that, you can Facebook stalk him for reference. In fact,_ _do_ _Facebook stalk him. Tell me all the worst things you can find about him. This is war, and you’re my secret weapon.) He is a grade A dickwad. He’s from some fancy prep school in West Virginia and thinks he’s Hermes reincarnated (NOT ANOTHER GREEK JOKE. Please do not strike me, a mere mortal, down.). He literally has wings embroidered on the sides of all of his track shoes- that’s how big of a douchebag he is. He’s made it his personal mission to a) outrun me, b) see me humiliated, and c) destroy me by any means necessary. Just the other day, he shoved me off a trail and into the lake._

_THE LAKE, Artemis._

_We must be in the middle of my superhero origin story, because I swear there are toxic chemicals in that lake and I can’t explain how I’m not dead yet. Hopefully I get something cool like flight or teleportation, and not supersonic burps. Imagine trying to explain that at the dinner table. I don’t think “excuse me” would cover it at that point._

_As for your situation, I’d say the only reasonable solution is to fake your death and stow away on a cargo ship to Antarctica. Start a new life. Become one with the icy wilderness. Befriend some penguins. Only then will you find peace after what you’ve had to deal with. You’d think they’d make it out of the driveway before playing tongue twister. At least Sin didn’t get scarred for life, so you succeeded on the babysitting front. There’s a silver lining for you._

_And if it makes you feel better, Roy must be having his own crisis right about now. I can’t believe he didn’t know you two were sisters! How did_ _that_ _get past him?_

_Always knew the Harb would fall into chaos without me. Just 72 more days until I can come back and restore order. 72 more days of sleeping with one eye open in case Zolomon tries smothering me in my bunk. If I die out here, I want you to make sure he’s brought to justice. Even if they say it was accidental. It was him. Don’t let him get away with it. Avenge me, Artemis!_

_Wallman out!_

_P.S. Don’t actually move to Antarctica. You’re my only eyes and ears on the outside. Conner got home from Kansas and only responded with pictures of his dog, which was nice and all, but who reads three letters worth of information and just sends dog pics back? I’m going to a have a serious chat with him about that when (or if) I get back._

_P.P.S. A full report on Z-enemy would be greatly appreciated._

 

She remembers this one well, mostly because she called him out for using ‘tongue twister’ and ‘the Harb’ in an actual conversation. She also made it very clear that Wallace _Rudolph_ had no room to joke about names.

Her ‘full report’ on Zolomon included a print-out of his plagiarized motivational quote statuses and an embarrassing picture from an eighth grade dance. Wally ended up randomly quoting them to spook his rival whenever he got too annoying (which was all the time). She never followed up on whether or not he took her advice about the dance picture (which was to post it over Zolomon’s bunk in the middle of the night so he’d wake up to a memory from which he’d forgotten to untag himself).

Artemis glances at the torn Wall-E stickers at each end of the letter ( _Geek.)_ before neatly folding the paper up and tucking it back into its envelope with care. As she moves to put the letter back in the box, she catches a glimpse of her smiling face in the mirror on her desk and immediately puts an end to _that_.

She nods at her neutral expression in the mirror. That’s better.

She makes sure to shove the shoebox all the way under her bed this time. With a resigned sigh, she lays back in her bed and stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stars Jade stuck on the ceiling during one of her phases.

The Wally Problem keeps sneaking up on her, lying in wait behind her other problems until she takes a breather and then- Bam! _Feelings._

It is an Issue.

She’s been spending too much time mulling over the mystery that is her mind's sudden turnaround on the topic of Wally West. When did it happen? _How?_ Had the fall into the lake actually _changed_ him? It has to be that kind of sci-fi, supernatural answer she’s searching for because she’s yet to find a logical explanation for all of her _thoughts_.

And as much as she wishes she could write it off as teenage lust (and she did for about a week), there’s no way that that’s the case. If it were, she would’ve told Megan, made her move, and been over it already. Game, set, match. She _definitely_ wouldn’t be re-reading his stupid letter, and it definitely wouldn’t be making her feel like everything is going to be alright.

No, this isn’t lust. It’s something far, far worse.

“ _Gross_ ,” she groans to the stars, flipping over to bury her face in her pillow before admitting, “I _like_ him.”

 

* * *

 

The girls’ locker room buzzes with activity, and Artemis could not be more happy to not be a part of it. For a few moments (the ones immediately after she’d locked the Bumblebees in and barricaded the door with a little help from Marvin), it had looked like she was going to have to get in there and stop the Bees from going extinct. Thankfully, the cacophony of piercing, panicked yelling had quickly quieted down to a hum of conversation and the odd accusatory shout.

Considering Megan hasn’t called her in yet, it must be going in a positive direction, meaning Phase One of her (only slightly desperate) plan is working. Phase Two is a different story.

“What do you mean you lost them?” Artemis asks, scrambling to get off the ground and into Marvin’s face. “You had one job!”

“I know, I know, ” Marvin groans, taking a step back and nearly tripping over the long stinger of the Hornet mascot costume. “I ran into them after class got out and Steph _promised_ they’d meet me by the bleachers, but when I got there right now, they weren’t there! I think they might have bailed.”

“Oh, no no no no no.” Artemis tugs at the end of her ponytail and look towards the sky for answers. “This is _not_ okay. This is so not okay.”

Marvin nods quickly, nearly knocking the antennae off his head. “I know!”

“Raquel is in there right now prepping them to make an apology, and we have no one to apologize to!”

“I know!”

“Stop saying you know and _do_ something,” Artemis says, gritting her teeth and strongly guiding Marvin further away from the locker room doors, where she’s been stationed ever since sending him on his failure of a mission. “Go look for them.”

“Where? How?” He gestures all around with his over-sized mascot hands. “They could be anywhere by now.”

“Not true,” Artemis says, glancing towards the stadium parking lot. “Kara gets a ride home with Conner and he’s still at practice. Go ask him where she is.”

Marvin takes another step away from her. “Uh- but Coach Gardner said I can’t interrupt them again after the whole pyramid fallout thing, and I’m not exactly willing to risk-”

Artemis grabs a fist full of the jersey worn over the Hornet costume and yanks him forward. “Marvin, you know how important this is. I swear if you don’t go look for them right now, I will rip that stinger right off your costume and shove it down your-”

Marvin breaks away and yelps, “ _Okay, okay_ , I’m going!”

As he heads out in a clumsy run towards the football field, Artemis quickly weighs her options. Marvin won’t be successful, that’s for sure. She can’t leave the Bumblebees locked in there forever. The apology window is rapidly closing as the party gets closer and Phase Three can’t happen until an apology is made. _Crap._ Artemis sighs heavily and steels herself before turning towards the heavy chain they used to lock the double doors of the locker room. The eerie silence that has replaced the low buzz she’s been listening to for over an hour makes her decision for her.

It’s time to free the Bees.

Artemis unwraps the chain from around the door handles and tosses it to the side before opening the doors. As soon as she lets herself in, Raquel grabs her by the arm, pulls her to the side, shuts the doors, and shushes her.

“Just look,” Raquel whispers with barely contained glee, pointing to a bundle of Bees hugging in the middle of the room. From their position, Artemis can just make out the top of Megan’s head somewhere in the center of the mob.

“Why-” Artemis’s question gets answered before it can be asked, because the group begins dispersing in all directions (and in varying states of emotion).

From the very center of the room, Kara and Megan wave at her, arm in arm. Stephanie stands triumphantly on one of the benches behind them. Raquel releases the vice grip she has on Artemis’s arm in order to go round up her emotionally charged teammates outside.

It’s a turn of events that stuns Artemis, mostly because it turned in the right direction for once in her life.

The Bumblebees stream out of the room, walking around her statuesque form chatting happily like they hadn’t just been at each other’s throats half an hour ago. _Unbelievable._

Megan’s touch on her arm snaps Artemis out of her stupor just in time for her to smile at Kara and Stephanie as they practically skip out of the locker room together.

“What just happened?” Artemis asks, once the door swings shut behind the pair.

“Nothing short of a miracle,” Megan says with an accepting shrug.

“They were in here the _whole_ time?”

Megan nods rapidly before she answers, “They hid in the gear closet. Steph’s idea, apparently. Popped out as soon as Mareena started crying about needing to find them and beg for forgiveness.”

“And everything is... good?” Artemis asks cautiously, taking note of the way Megan avoids her eyes.

“They’re coming to the party tomorrow, so yeah, I think so.” The edges of Megan’s eyes wrinkle as she grins. Her fidgety hands betray her confident smile.

“You think so?” Artemis raises a brow.

“Well,” Megan’s smile slips for a fraction of a second before she shrugs and pats Artemis’s shoulder, “we’ll see how it all turns out. Thanks for this. I’ve gotta get to practice, but you’re still coming tomorrow morning, right?”

“Riiight,” Artemis drawls, “but what-”

“Cool, I’ll see you then,” Megan says as she practically runs out of the locker room.

When the door shuts behind her, Artemis takes a seat on the nearest bench and sighs. She’s not used to getting brushed off by Megan. Jade? Yes, all the time, everyday of her life. Megan? Never. It’s unsettling. Regret tints the edges of her brilliant plan. Keeping Megan in the dark isn’t looking like such a great idea anymore.

_Tomorrow,_ she thinks, reaching for a forgotten tennis ball from under the bench. _I’ll tell her tomorrow._ She bounces the ball against the ground and catches it in her other hand. _Maybe._

She bounces the ball a few more times, mulling over pros and cons, before a thought strikes her and sends her sprinting out of the locker room.

If she does decide to tell Megan, it’s definitely going to have to be _after_ she saves Marvin from Coach Gardner’s wrath.

 

* * *

 

The concept of six degrees of separation doesn’t exist in Happy Harbor. This is because the six Morse sisters have so firmly embedded themselves into the social fabric of the town that you’d be hard pressed to find someone who didn’t at least know one of them.

This, Artemis surmises, is why she is currently elbowing her way through a sea of people just to get from the staircase to the kitchen in Megan’s house. It’s also why she’s been having to act as an unofficial bouncer all night. The scowl on her face is out of place in the crowd of rowdy teenagers, but if it makes them think twice about playing Toss the Freshman, then she’s prepared to keep it on all night. Megan’s dealt with enough drama for the week.

Artemis jolts as a hand catches her sharp elbow before it can cut between another conversation.

“Having trouble?” A low voice reaches her ears over the loud beats blasting out of the stereo system.

Artemis drops the scowl and grins before she turns around and says, “I thought you said you weren’t coming.”

“I meant what I said at the time, but I was... convinced.” Kaldur nods his head towards the corner where Garth and Tula have created their own personal dance floor out of the welcome mat Artemis is one hundred percent sure she put outside two hours ago. “It is our last year after all.”

“Don’t remind me,” Artemis says, pouting slightly. “Who’s going to go watch _Back to the Depths: Part Three_ with me?”

“I will,” Kaldur says with a short laugh, “as long as you don’t mind waiting and missing the midnight showing.”

She pretends to consider it before playfully pushing his arm. “Only for you.”

“I was looking forward to-”

“Hey, Kaldur, my man!” Wally’s voice carries over the music as he ducks underneath an outstretched umbrella-sword and pops back up between them with a wide smile. “Oh, and Artemis, my not-a-man. You guys having a good time?”

Artemis shares a glance with Kaldur before looking at Wally with a raised brow and asking, “Your what now?”

The smile slips off his face as he stumbles over his words. “Uh- you know-you’re not- a _man,_ so-”

“Yes,” Kaldur saves him from explaining, “we are having a good time. Megan really knows how to throw a party.”

“Speaking of, where exactly is our lovely hostess?” Wally stands on the tips of his toes and squints over the bustling living room.

“Upstairs,” Artemis answers, quickly remembering why she’d been shoving people to get to the kitchen in the first place. “I’ve got to get going, but you guys have fun. I think the bounce house is up again in the backyard.”

She spots a clear path to the kitchen and makes it a good six steps before a hand finds hers and turns her around.

“As much as I’d love to impress the ladies with my mad bouncing skills,” Wally pauses to lean in closer as the music gets louder, “we need to talk.”

Artemis narrows her eyes at his urgency (and his use of “ _the ladies”_ ). For a split second, she wonders if it bothers her for more than just the usual reason, but there’s really no time to start going down that train of thought. She shakes the feeling away.

“Did you not convince you-know-who to come?” she asks, mentally preparing for the worst case scenario where she has to forcibly drag Conner out of his house to talk to Megan. A messy scenario, even under the best of circumstances.

Wally shakes his head slowly and gently places a hand on her shoulder. “You can say his name, Artemis. Voldemort’s not real.”

“ _Wally_ ,” she groans, choking back her amusement and moving her arm away from his touch, “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He stretches his neck to look over the heads of the people around them before he looks her in the eye and admits, “We’ve got a small problem.”

“Define small,” Artemis says with a sigh.

“What?” Wally asks loudly, trying to compete with the newest song blasting from the stereo.

“De-fine-small,” she enunciates, at the exact moment the guy behind her shouts, “This is my song!”

“Find Paul?” Wally guesses after a few, painfully long seconds.

Artemis huffs, grabs his hand, and finally forces her way past the _Off Limits_ sign on the kitchen door. Once the door is firmly closed behind them, she crosses her arms and faces him again.

“Define small,” she repeats, and this time he hears her.

“ _Well_.” Wally draws out the l’s far beyond their usefulness as he starts walking around the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Marvin all over again,” Artemis mumbles to herself. “Spit it out.”

“Conner’s here, but he’s not here and he might not _be_ here until he’s _here_ , you know what I mean?” he says so quickly she has to run the words through her head twice before giving up.

“I do not know what you mean. Where is Conner?” she asks flatly.

Wally leans against the island and eyes the cactus-shaped cookie jar sitting in the center before he says, “Front yard. He’s on the fence, literally and figuratively. He might be a little nervous. I don’t think he’s coming in.”

Artemis walks over to the curtained window and peers out into the front yard. Sure enough, Conner is there, leaning against the Christmas light covered fence with his arms crossed and his expression stony. He glances towards the front door every few seconds.

“This is good,” she says, backing up from the window to turn to Wally, whose hand is now halfway down the cookie jar. “To tell you the truth, I’m impressed. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to do it.”

“O ye of little faith,” he says accusingly, pointing a cookie in her direction before eating it.

Artemis snorts as she walks to the kitchen door, which shakes with the beat of the music outside. “If he won’t come in, then I’m going to tell Megan to go talk to him.”

“Cool.” After he pulls another day old cookie out of the jar, he takes a bite and asks, “What should I do?”

“Make sure he doesn’t leave,” she orders as she opens the door. She pauses for a second before sending him a pointed look. “And don’t clean out that cactus. Those are my favorite.”

“No promises,” he says through a mouthful of cookie. “Con’s stronger than me, and these cookies are stronger than my self control.”

She hopes the music and the click of the door covers up the snicker that slips past her lips as she leaves.

 

* * *

 

Artemis forgoes knocking as she swings the door to Megan’s room open and declares, “I forgot to grab more oreos, but I found something better.”

Megan spins around from her desk chair and looks up at Artemis with a pout. “What could be better than oreos?”

Artemis quickly shuts the bedroom door behind her, pulls her friend to the window, and points down into the yard. “See for yourself.”

The exact moment Megan’s eyes light up is the moment any residual guilt Artemis felt about leaving her in the dark completely disappears.

“Conner!” Megan gasps, squeezing Artemis’s hands between her own. “He’s here! How long has he- What’s he doing here?”

“Take a breath,” Artemis says, laughing lightly. “Why don’t you go ask him?”

“Ask him,” Megan repeats slowly, releasing Artemis’s hands to smooth out the front of her dress. “Yeah, you’re right. I should do that. Can I do that?”

“It’s your house,” Artemis points out.

“Right.” Megan nods rapidly. “It is my house. Now?”

“No, next week.” Artemis rolls her eyes and starts walking towards the door. “C’mon, Meganerd, it’s now or never.”

Megan chooses now.

Cutting through the crowd at the bottom of the stairs and getting Megan out the front door doesn’t take too long, but by the time Artemis returns to the kitchen, the cookies are gone and so is Wally.

It doesn’t surprise her in the slightest.

She races to the window and releases a small sigh of relief at the sight of Conner still standing near the fence. Before she can see if Megan makes it to him, her view is obstructed by a couple of laughing lacrosse players popping up in front of the window. They wave at her through the glass. Artemis shuts the curtain.

She leaves the kitchen and nearly trips over an abandoned pair of shoes in her haste to reach the living room window, a.k.a. the nearest, clearest vantage point. The loveseat under the window is occupied by two freshmen giving each other shy glances when she arrives. After pointing them to the nearest game of spin the bottle in the foyer, Artemis commandeers the small sofa for herself and peeks through the blinds at the scene in the front yard.

Megan’s sparkly, green dress catches her eye as the blinking Christmas lights reflect off the shiny material. Conner spots her early on as she moves through the yard. Artemis watches him uncross his arms and take a deep breath before he either says “Hey” or “Dang”. Reading lips in the dark is hard, okay?

“There you are. Move over,” Wally says, making her jump when he takes a knee on the seat cushion next to her. “I’m invested, too.”  

Artemis doesn’t turn away from the blinds when she asks, “Where did you go?”

“Melissa kicked me out of the kitchen and told me to learn how to read.”

“Sounds like her,” Artemis says with a short nod, scooting over a bit so he can see through the same slat as her. “So did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Learn how to read,” she explains plainly, a smirk pulling at her lips.

“Shut up,” he laughs, brushing against her shoulder as he leans closer to get a better view. “I don’t have to prove to you of all people that I know how to read.”

“True,” she agrees, thinking about the bundle of letters stuffed far under her bed. “What I’d like to know is if you’re capable of writing legibly instead of in your usual chicken scratch.”

“Hey,” he protests, lightly bumping into her, “just because us mere mortals can’t write in your freakishly straight handwriting doesn’t mean our writing is illegible.”

“Tell that to the post office,” Artemis says with a quiet laugh, recalling the look on her mailman’s face each time she handed him back a letter meant for Conner and told him to go up another three blocks. “Three times, Wally. _Three times_.”

“I can’t help it if their fours look like my nines,” he tells her for what has to be the hundredth time. “That’s out of my control—and Jim got the hang of it after those first ones.”

“He’s a saint, honestly.” Artemis smiles. “You know, I was thinking, you never did tell me how the Z-man felt about that dance picture.”

“I told you not to call him that,” Wally groans lowly, shivering dramatically. “It humanizes him.”

Artemis laughs. “C’mon, tell me what happened.”

“I did what you said: put it right in his face. When he woke up, he _screamed_ ,” Wally chuckles with barely contained glee, and Artemis finds herself thinking of another way to draw it out of him again. “Oh, man, Artemis. I wish you could’ve been at breakfast that morning. He was _losing it._ Totally accused me of spying on him in front of everyone, but how could I have gotten on Facebook without my phone, or a computer, and how could I have printed a picture without a printer? In any case, he embarrassed himself by showing it to everyone as _proof_.”

“You’re welcome,” Artemis says, grinning. “Glad I could contribute to another Zolomon conspiracy theory.”

She looks back to the blinds, then narrows her eyes in scrutiny.

“Hey, look.” She nudges Wally’s shoulder.

They crowd the window as Megan starts nodding to whatever Conner is saying. When the nods slow to a stop, she takes half a step forward and places her hand on Conner’s arm as she speaks.

“ _Ooo_ , arm touch, looks serious,” Wally whispers, and although her vision is locked in on her friends outside, Artemis can imagine the playful eyebrow wiggle that surely accompanied his comment. She snorts.

While her vision might be focused on the scene in the yard, the rest of her is keenly aware of just how close Wally is. Sometime during his efforts to get a better look, his arm had made its way over her shoulders, and his knee had found a place next to hers, and his face was right over her shoulder, and if she turned even an inch their cheeks would touch ( _and if she turned a little more than that she might even be able to ki_ —).

Artemis slams the breaks on her _thoughts_ the moment Conner and Megan snap their attention to the window. She lets the slat fall and tries to move away from the blinds but only succeeds in almost pushing Wally off the sofa. He scrambles to move into a less-conspicuously seated position and Artemis hastily does the same on the other cushion.

“You think they saw us?” Artemis asks, only looking at him once she’s sure the flush in her face has faded.

“Oh, most definitely,” he says a bit breathlessly, and he stares back at her in such a way that makes her feel a little breathless, too. She’s beginning to wonder if it’s really not as big of an Issue as she thought. “But they _were_ holding hands, so I think our mission was a success.”

“Perfect,” Artemis breathes out, holding her hand up for a high five. He doesn’t disappoint her.

“Go team,” he says with a victorious laugh. “I’d say this calls for a celebration.”

“You’re in the right place,” Artemis snorts, gesturing to the seniors forming a circle in the middle of the living room for an impromptu dance-off.

“Wait a sec.” Wally holds up one finger at her before turning around and reaching for something from the floor next to the couch. He surfaces with a knowing grin. “A toast.”

The cactus-shaped cookie jar appears in front of her with the cowboy hat lid missing. Upon closer examination, Artemis finds two of Megan’s peanut butter M&M cookies sitting at the bottom of the jar. She looks at the cookies, then at his nodding face, then back at the cookies.

“I don’t believe it,” she says slowly, unable to imagine Wally sparing a crumb of these delicacies. She pulls both cookies out of the jar and hands him one.

“All your doubt is starting to wound me,” he says, one hand over his heart while the other waves the cookie at her. “I saved you one, just for this moment.”

“That’s...” _sweet_ is the word that comes to mind _,_ but her mouth says, “-surprising.”

“Stick around, Sunshine, I’m full of surprises,” Wally grins, tilting his head. Artemis doesn’t miss the _woosh_ of his hair or the butterflies in her stomach that so often accompany it. He raises his cookie towards her. “To a successful mission.”

“To teamwork.” Artemis taps the edge of her cookie against his and smirks. “Even if I did do most of the work.”

Wally rolls his eyes as he stuffs his cookie in his mouth. Artemis follows suit, savoring success, the sweet treat, and the even sweeter moment.

The moment ends a few seconds later when a loud crack sounds against the outside of the window. They jump at the sudden sound, but it’s the shouting outside that brings them to their feet.

“What the hell was that?” Artemis pulls a cord to lift the blinds up to get a better look outside.

She’s not impressed with what she finds.

“That’s not good,” Wally says, drawing attention to the yellow yolk dripping down the window pane.

“It gets worse,” Artemis says tightly, her superb mood slipping away at the sight of more eggs flying through the air. Partygoers nearly trip over each other in their haste to get inside the front door or out of range.

The blinds fall back into place after Artemis drops the cord and starts pushing her way through the people crowding the doorway.

“I’m right behind you,” she hears Wally call out over the teens rushing into the house.

An egg flies through the doorway and cracks against the back of some poor kid’s head, causing an opening to appear as the other kids scatter away from the door. Artemis takes it and runs out into the yard fully prepared to crack a few heads herself. She sets her sights on the nearest boy with an egg carton in his arms and sees red.

“What the hell, Cameron?!” Artemis growls, fists balled at her sides as she approaches him in the middle of the walkway.

An egg flies past her head and she halts her gait to turn her attention to the other side of the fence, where Cameron Mahkent’s friends—Tuppence and her twin brother, Tommy—hold their own cartons of eggs.

Wally catches up to her then. Conner appears at her other side. Fragments of an eggshell are still stuck to his jacket and he is decidedly Not Happy. Megan is also not happy, if the bright red flush on her face and egg-covered patio umbrella-turned-shield in her hands is anything to go by.

Artemis takes a step forward and narrows her eyes at Cameron. “ _What_ is your fucking problem?!”

“We just figured a party full of stiffs could use a little livening up,” Cameron says with a shrug and a smirk, and Tommy’s guffaw of a laugh echoes through the nearly empty yard. The only other people watching the scene unfold do so from the fringes of the yard or the safety of the house.

“This is _my_ house,” Megan says firmly as she closes her umbrella and points the tip at Cameron. " _My_ party. And you were _not_ invited. You have ten seconds to get out of here before I—”

“Before you what?” Cameron interrupts her and laughs. “Throw a pom-pom at me?”

“Worse.” Megan maintains eye contact with Cameron as she purposefully passes the umbrella over to Conner’s waiting hands. A smirk of pride slides across Artemis’s face at the same time the cocky grin slips off of Cameron’s.

“Geez, calm down. Can’t you see it’s just a joke?” Cameron backtracks quickly, dropping his carton on the grass.

“The only joke I see here is you, dude,” Wally retorts, crossing his arms.

“And none of us find you funny,” Artemis adds.

“You’re almost out of seconds,” Conner reminds him, tapping the tip of the umbrella against the ground.

“But we’re not out of eggs,” Tommy says, holding an egg at the ready. Tuppence copies his movement.

If they think it’s a standoff, they’ve got another thing coming.

“ _Enough_ ,” Artemis groans, marching straight up to Cameron without a second thought. (He’s been all bark and no bite since the day they met.) She pushes his shoulder roughly. “Apologize and go home.”

“Only if you’re coming with, babe,” Cameron says with his usual arrogance, even as he tries to rub away the pain in the shoulder she pushed.

“Are you _serious_?” Artemis’s voice breaks and she takes a step back to stop herself from pushing him again. “Could you be _any_ more of a sleaze? You know what? Don’t answer that. I already know the answer since you’ve been a thorn in my side ever since the day I got here.”

Artemis fists her hand in the collar of his shirt and narrows her eyes. “Let me make this clear, since you obviously didn’t hear me the first million times: You and me? Never, _ever_ happening. Now leave and take your two-pack of idiots with you!”

Cameron’s eyes turn icy as he takes a bold move forward and pointedly shouts, “What’s your damage, Crock? Did Daddy going away really fuck you up _that_ bad?”

Every snarky retort she’d had stocked at the tip of her tongue vanishes, along with the air in her lungs and the fire in her eyes. She releases her hold on his shirt as she recoils away from him. The silence in the yard is only broken by Megan’s muffled gasp.

After too long, Artemis manages to slowly and quietly grit out a question. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me,” Cameron says with a sneer. “Did Daddy’s little girl not get enough attention while he was in jail, so now she’s got to boss everybody around just to feel something?”

“You have _no_ _clue_ what you’re talking about,” Artemis seethes through heavy breaths. She holds her shaking fists tightly at her sides and tries to slow her racing heart. “Get out of my sight before—”

“I’m right, though, aren’t I?” he interrupts, sealing his fate. “My old man told me you were Crusher Crock’s kid, and, honestly? I believe him. It definitely explains why you’re such a _bitch_.”

Wally and Megan yell something at that moment, but Artemis doesn’t hear them because she’s too busy slamming her fury-filled fist against Cameron’s face.

He stumbles and falls backwards onto the damp grass, shouting muffled curses as he holds his hands over his mouth. Conner drops the umbrella and catches Artemis’s arm when she raises her fist again. Wally grabs her other arm, and the two boys work together to pull her back before she can dive to the ground and finish what the idiot started.

As she struggles against her friends to get to the cowering boy on the ground, Artemis’s spiraling thoughts center on the fact that her secret, the one she’s spent the last couple of years fighting tooth and nail to keep, has been chucked into the open—just like the egg hurdling straight for her.

She barely even feels the impact against her chest. She stops fighting the boys to watch the pieces and goo slide down the front of her top. It’s a pretty accurate representation of her life right now.

“You hit me!” Cameron cries out, sitting on the ground with a bleeding split lip. “You _actually_ hit me!”

More eggs start flying through the air as Tommy and Tuppence react to Cameron’s pained whines. Wally forces Artemis to crouch down and tries to shield her from the eggs. At the same time, Conner races to pick up the patio umbrella and turn it back into a shield for them all. Megan’s hands hang onto Artemis’s shoulders, and then they’re all there, hiding from an onslaught of eggs behind an oversized umbrella in the middle of an empty yard.

Their saving grace comes in the form of a harsh jet of water that flies over their heads and relentlessly pelts Tommy and Tuppence until they run into the empty street. Cameron uses the moment to get off the ground and flip them all off.

“You’re gonna regret that, Crock!” he yells.

The water hits him next.

Conner finally shuts the umbrella, and they watch from the ground as Cameron and his friends run across the street, mount their bikes, and pedal out of sight. The water shuts off and the four of them turn around to find Kaldur standing behind them with a garden hose in hand.

“I’m surprised you did not hit him sooner,” Kaldur remarks, dropping the hose. His words snap Artemis out of her daze.

After Megan and Wally stand and give her some space, Artemis rises to her feet and nods her thanks to Kaldur. She shakes out the hand she used to punch Cameron and looks down to inspect the damage, but it’s hard to see past the unwanted tears building in her eyes. She shuts them tightly and holds her breath, trying desperately to calm down.

Megan’s the first to touch her arm. “Artemis? Artemis, are you—”

“Meg-an!” Michelle’s piercing voice rings out through the yard from the front door. “Get in here, _now_!”

Megan spins around and winces. “But—”

“Go,” Artemis whispers, careful not to look up. “I’m fine.”

“You are _not_ — _”_

Artemis shakes her head. “Megan, go.”

Megan hesitates before squeezing her shoulder. “I’ll be _right_ back.”

Conner looks from Artemis to Wally to Megan before he takes a step back and says, “I’ll be right back, too.”

They rush inside to talk to Michelle as Kaldur ushers a few more people back inside the house and shuts the door, leaving Wally and Artemis alone in the shell-littered yard.

Artemis bites her lip as she fights to stop trembling so much. _Dammit. Dammit._ Her hand aches, and she mentally berates herself for throwing a punch when a well-aimed kick would’ve sufficed.

“Let me see it,” Wally says, taking her hand after she shakes it out again and hisses.

The pain in her hand is nothing compared to the hurt she feels when she finally dares to look into his eyes and sees all the goddamn _pity_ she never wanted staring back.

_This_ is exactly why she’s never told anyone. Once the pity fades, the judgement comes, and for all of her achievements and good deeds, it’s always the _family business_ that people want to see.

“I have to go,” she says shakily, pulling her hand away from him. “Tell Megan I’m sorry.”

“Artemis, wait,” he says quickly. When he reaches out for her, she steps to the side and starts speed-walking towards the street.

He follows, of course.

“You can’t just leave.”

“Watch me,” she says tightly, her voice faltering as she swallows down her panic. “Goodnight, Wally.”

“At least let me walk you—” he pleads.

Artemis turns abruptly and interrupts him with hard eyes and an even harder tone. “I said goodnight.”

Wally stops walking and holds her gaze. “Artemis... c’mon. Talk to me.”  

She wants to, really, but if she talks now, the only words that’ll come out of her mouth are ones that tell him to stop, to go back inside and go show off for _the ladies_ , to leave her alone because it’s just easier on both of them that way, because in the long run, the skeletons in her closet would’ve scared him off anyway. And to think, they’d just been joking around and toasting cookies not even ten minutes ago.

What had she been _thinking_? _How_ had she been so naive to think no one would ever find out? Her chest tightens as the panic returns.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she practically wheezes, turning on her heel to continue her hasty exit.

“Then we won’t talk,” he offers, jogging behind her. “I won’t even walk _with_ you. I’ll just be back here, minding my own business, taking a stroll... in the same direction.”

Artemis slows down to a walk, and so does he, and she can feel his eyes on her, watching her carefully, waiting for a response. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and rubs her eyes with her pain-free hand. It takes her a whole block to find her voice.

“Fine,” she says, just loud enough for him to hear. “That’s... fine.”

He keeps his word by not saying a single one during the fifteen minute walk to her house. As they walk, Artemis’s shaking lessens and her breathing evens out and she feels better just knowing that _maybe_ she jumped the gun, that _maybe_ this boy— the one who writes her letters, and calls her Sunshine, and saves her cookies, and walks her home, and makes her mind lighter with the sound of his laughter— can still see her for who _she_ is and not who her _family_ was.

Maybe, _just_ _maybe_ , there’s still a way this can work.

When they reach her house, Artemis pulls her key out of her boot and unlocks the door as slowly as possible. She opens it without a sound and, for the first time since leaving Megan’s block, turns around to face Wally. He waits on the sidewalk underneath the light of the streetlamp. After she steps across the threshold, she waves at him, and he waves back.

And when she closes the door, she hangs onto _maybe_ like it’s an umbrella in a rainstorm.


	4. the one with the arrows

“ _So_ , is that your boyfriend?”

Jade’s voice cuts through the silent house like an arrow through the wind, her question striking Artemis between the ribs and knocking the breath from her lungs. Artemis jumps away from the peephole and races to flip the nearest light switch on the wall. With the living room lit, Artemis can glare at her sister properly.

“Are you  _trying_  to give me a heart attack?” Artemis snaps, holding her sore hand to her chest. “What the heck are you doing hiding in the dark?”

“ _Not so loud_ ,” Jade hisses from the living room couch. “Turn the lights off. Mom doesn’t know I’m home.”

“ _Mom_  isn’t home,” Artemis scoffs as she pulls off her boots and places them by the door. “You would know that if you ever called her.”

“Oh, really? Her light was on.” Jade perks up and rests her dirty sneakers on the coffee table. “Where is she?”

“She leaves it on so the house doesn’t look empty. It’s girl’s night at Veronica’s place and Mrs. Hall is dropping her off later,” Artemis explains, moving into the kitchen and speaking louder so Jade can hear her as she rifles through the cabinets and gathers what she needs.

“That’s perfect,” Jade replies smugly, sinking deeper into the couch.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Artemis reminds her as she returns to the living room with a bottle of water, an ice pack, a paper towel, and a pill in hand.

“And you haven’t answered mine”–Jade raises a brow as Artemis takes a seat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table–“though maybe I didn’t ask the right one. What happened to you?”

Artemis doesn’t mean to do it, but as soon as she finishes wiping the dried egg flakes off of her shirt, pressing the ice pack to her hand, and downing an ibuprofen, she unleashes the whole story (sans The Wally Problem) on her sister. Later, she’ll claim absence made her heart grow fonder and that’s why she poured out her feelings to  _Jade_  of all people, but the fact remains that Jade is the only person who could possibly understand where she is coming from right now. Plus, Jade is more likely than their mother to condone physical violence as a problem solving method.

“You should’ve kicked him,” Jade eventually reprimands her, breaking the familiar tension that flares up every time they bring up their father. “I mean, I’m sure you pack a good punch, but those boots would’ve done more damage.”

“Next time,” Artemis sighs, rolling her eyes.

“And  _eggs_?” Jade scoffs. “Amateurs.  _My_  first Morse party ended in a paintball war. Took out three windows and a birdhouse.”

“You’re joking.”

Jade shakes her head and quickly adds, “It was before Michelle forgot how to have fun.”

“Wow,” Artemis breathes out slowly, unable to imagine Megan’s uptight older sister having  _anything_  to do with Jade or her old friends. She makes a note to ask Megan if Michelle ever mentioned Jade.

“Listen up, kid,”–Jade calls for her attention in a tone reminiscent of their mother’s when they’re in trouble–“when we moved here, I played along with the happy, little family front for your sake, but it’s past time to end this charade. Mom might think otherwise, but I couldn’t care less what the people in this town think of us. So your loser friends know about our deadbeat dad–  _who cares_? If they’re really worth keeping around, they sure won’t.”

“They won’t,” Artemis says quietly, trying hard not to imagine the looks on their faces when they realize (if they haven’t already)  _exactly_  who Crusher Crock is.

After her outburst at the party, who could resist the temptation of digging deeper? Everyone being one search engine click away from finding the  _Gotham Gazette_ ’s three page spread on her father’s unprecedented six month string of heists along the East Coast during her childhood was anxiety-inducing enough without having his name thrown out like a bad party favor. The paper never calls Artemis or Jade by name, but the media circus surrounding Crusher Crock’s nationally televised standoff, which only came to an end when two little girls dragged their own mother out of a burning hideout and begged for it all to stop, went on for weeks. Who could forget that?

The tight expression on Jade’s face says she never will.

Jade examines her nails with feigned interest as she goes on to say, “As much as I hate to admit it, Lawrence is always going to be part of our stories, but God, Artemis, sometimes you let him be the whole damn book. You’ve got to stop. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

A bright light shines through the half-open blinds and illuminates Jade’s sudden smirk.

“That’s my ride,” Jade says before she stands and searches for something in the couch cushion. “If you see Mom, tell her I’ll be home in time for breakfast.”

Artemis reminds her, “You could always call and tell her yourself.”

“Nope,” Jade says, popping the ‘p’ as she pulls her phone from the couch victoriously.

Artemis nods, rolls her eyes, and asks, “Of course not. Why bother having a phone if you never use it?”

“The camera, duh,” Jade replies easily, stuffing her phone into her jacket pocket.

“Of course,” Artemis repeats.

“So,” Jade begins innocently (which is to say in a not-at-all-innocent manner), “ _was_  that your boyfriend? He looked familiar.”

Artemis looks out the window, simply to not look at Jade. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Jade says, and Artemis doesn’t even need to be looking at her sister to know that there’s a grin on her face, “so he’s your boy toy, then? Looks like I  _have_  taught you something. I am  _so_  proud.”

“ _Jade_ ,” Artemis groans, but her next words are overpowered by a car horn outside.

“So impatient,” Jade tuts as she puts on her jacket. She takes a step towards the door before giving Artemis a second glance. The horn outside honks again. Jade sighs shortly.

“A word of warning, Sis. Redheads in this town? Clingy as hell. Think about what I said”–Jade pauses to reach over the coffee table, pluck a piece of eggshell out of her sister’s hair, and flick it onto the rug–“and take a shower. Eggshell in your hair? Kind of pathetic.”

Jade may not be the kindest, most attentive sister, but when she walks out the door and gives Artemis one last look before she leaves, Artemis has to admit it.

Jade has her moments.

* * *

 

After a hot mug of tea and a hotter shower, Artemis crawls into bed and counts the glowing stars on the ceiling in an unsuccessful attempt to drag her mind out of the contemplative place Jade’s words put it in. It’s easy enough for Jade to say her friends won’t care (Jade’s friends didn’t care about  _anything_ ). Artemis takes her input with a grain of salt, seeing as the friend department is the one area where Artemis has always had an advantage over her sister (that advantage being that Artemis is  _nice_ ). Plus, Jade doesn’t even know Artemis’s friends. Not taking into account their brief overlap at school, Artemis could count on her fingers the number of times Megan has interacted with Jade.

A knock at her window cuts her star count off at 23.

At first, she thinks she imagined it, but then the knock turns into another, and another, and another, until it falls into a familiar rhythm and she knows it’s real.

Artemis’s brow furrows as she slips out of bed. She slowly makes her way to the window and pulls the curtains apart to reveal Megan, standing on the other side of the glass with a sheepish smile. When her best friend waves, Artemis can’t help but give Jade a little more credit. Redheads in this town really  _are_ clingy.

“What are you doing here?” Artemis asks as soon as she opens the window, making sure to keep a hand on the old frame so it doesn’t slip down between them.

“Well, you left your phone and your bag and your bike at my house,” Megan explains, shrugging off the messenger bag and passing it to Artemis through the window. “I brought these, but your bike’s still in the shed.”

“Oh, thanks,” Artemis says, tossing the bag onto the floor and accidentally sending her phone sliding out of its pocket. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to come back in the morning.”

“It’s not a big deal, trust me. Michelle and Melissa are being…” Megan waves a shaking fist at the air and huffs. “I had to get out of there, and Conner offered to drop me off on his way home, so here I am.”

It’s then that Artemis spots the tattered Hello Kitty backpack hanging off of Megan’s shoulder.

“They  _booted_  you?” Artemis asks, even though she already knows the answer.

There exists a cruel and unusual punishment between the Morse sisters within their household, a punishment Mr. and Mrs. Morse have yet to discover even after the nearly eleven years of its existence. Megan has never divulged the full story of its origin, but Artemis has heard enough to know that the three eldest Morse sisters–Morgan, Mabel, and Minnie–are not to be trifled with in any capacity.

Legend says Mabel was the first to be booted, unanimously, by all five of her sisters (though perhaps five year old Melissa and four year old Megan’s votes should not have been counted) after refusing to tell their parents that she was the one who backed the car into the playhouse. Back then, Booting meant sleeping on the musty couch next to the spooky, drafty window in the basement. Over time, Booting only got worse, moving from a sleeping bag in the treehouse to full blown property banishment with only Hello Kitty as a companion.

“Yup. With the Iron Boot, too. Can I…?” Megan trails off, tentatively placing her hands on the window sill.

Artemis doesn’t hesitate. “Of course you can.”

Megan climbs through the window with practiced ease and Artemis closes it behind her. They stand and consider each other for a few seconds before Megan cracks first.

“You left,” she says, not accusingly per se, but Artemis hears the  _why_  in Megan’s words.

“I couldn’t stay,” Artemis starts. “I felt like a one woman freak show. I mean, people were watching through the windows, from the fence– I even saw a couple of people in your hedges. There was egg goop in my hair and my  _bra_. I had to get out of there. I’m really sorry for disappearing and I know I should’ve said something, and, I mean, I definitely thought about it once I passed Fir Street and I was going to text you but–” Artemis cuts off her own rambling with a steep breath and a wave of her hand towards the ground where her (most likely dead) cell phone lies.

“It’s alright that you left. I was just worried.” Megan shrugs and drops her backpack onto the floor. “I  _am_  worried. I’ve never seen you so upset.”

“Well, I’m okay now,” Artemis assures her as she walks to her dresser and opens a drawer.

Megan takes a seat on Artemis’s bed and shakes her head. “I know that’s a lie.”

_Not the worst one._

“Do you need pajamas?” Artemis asks abruptly, pulling an old band t-shirt from the drawer.

Megan nods. “Yes, please. I barely had time to throw on non-egg covered clothes before they kicked me out.”

Artemis tosses Megan the top and raises a brow. “It took you that long to get here?”

“Well, they waited until I helped get everyone else out before they booted me,” Megan explains, stripping off her sweater and replacing it with Artemis’s top.

“Convenient,” Artemis notes, as she digs deeper into the drawer.

“Pfft, yeah, for them. And then I had to finish talking to Conner. We were making up for awhile.”

Artemis pauses for a second and smirks. “Sure you weren’t making  _out_?”

“Making  _up_ ,” Megan emphasizes with a slight whine, letting Artemis know that she is one hundred percent on target about them making out.

_At least that went right,_  Artemis muses, pulling a pair of bunny-print shorts from the drawer and handing them to Megan. “Here, you left these here the last time you spent the night.”

Megan smiles as she examines the shorts. “Oh, sweet, I thought Melissa stole them. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Artemis says as she moves from the dresser to reach underneath her bed. “Oh, and I’ve got a surprise for you– if I can– just–”

The tip of Artemis’s fingers brush against a battered box and she has to stretch to grab it and pull it out into the open.

“We don’t have to sleep back to back anymore,” she says, opening the box to reveal a mass of plastic. “My mom got an air mattress at the Lanes’ yard sale. You can take the real bed.”

“Ooo, fancy,” Megan notes, and she joins Artemis on the floor to help spread out the plastic. “And no, I call dibs on this one. It reminds me of camping. It’s nice.”

“Yeah, fact check: it was five bucks and has no holes. And they even threw in the hand pump for a quarter extra,” Artemis adds, shaking the box to get the tightly-wedged hand pump out and into Megan’s hands.

They sit on the floor as Megan holds the nozzle in place, and Artemis sends air into the mattress with steady pumps of the handle. As the mattress rises, so does Megan’s curiosity. Artemis catches a glimpse of the question in her best friend’s eyes and makes it a point to concentrate on the pump. Her arms begin to ache as she pumps a little  _too_  fast. When the air mattress is full and covered in some spare blankets, Artemis practically races to get under the covers of her own bed and say goodnight.

Not even a minute later, Megan breaks the silence.

“ _So_ ,” she starts, in a sleepover–,  _we aren’t sleeping tonight_ – kind of way, “are we going to talk about it or are we acting like it never happened?”

Artemis sighs at the glowing stars above her, as though they’ll hear and grant her unspoken wish for another distraction.

“Is that a talk sigh or a go-to-sleep sigh?” Megan asks.

The stars aren’t on Artemis’s side tonight.

Artemis rolls over, looks over the edge of the bed, and finds Megan smiling up at her innocently.

“It’s a talk sigh,” Artemis relents, moving herself into a seated position.

“Oh my god, yes,” Megan says, before she bounces off of the air mattress and climbs up onto the bed with Artemis.

As soon as she looks into Megan’s sparkling, hope-filled eyes, Artemis freezes. A  _thought_ , one more horrifying and familiar than any other, strikes her. Bad Dad was one thing, but what if Megan doesn’t  _get_  it, it being the foundation of lies Artemis laid back when they first met? Until today, Megan had never had a reason to question the cover story Artemis threw together the day they became real friends.

What if knowing the whole truth, that not only is her best friend’s father a pretty notorious criminal, but that said best friend also lied to her face about it for so long,  _hurts_  her?  

She’s had enough of hurting people today (including herself).

“Actually, forget that.” Artemis turns away from Megan, lays back down, and begins to pull on the covers. “It was definitely a go-to-sleep sigh.”

She’s almost there with the covers over her head and her face a few inches from the pillow, but Megan promptly rips away the comforters and says, “You said you wanted to talk. So talk. Please.”

“I change my mind.” Artemis tries to pull the blanket back, but Megan’s grip is strong.

“ _Artemis_ ,” Megan whines softly, yanking the covers so hard she pulls Artemis up into a seated position. “No take backs. Not this time.”

Artemis wrings the edge of the blanket in her hand, tries to swallow down her panic, and stumbles over her words. “If I tell you, you can’t– you can’t freak out, okay? Because what Cam said, it’s– I’ve done enough freaking out over it, okay? I’m so sorry. Just– _please_  don’t look at me differently.”

Megan clasps both of Artemis’s hands in hers, gently untangling them from the blanket before she says, “Artemis, I look at you and I see my best friend– no, my  _sister_. My  _favorite_  sister, and that’s saying something. Nothing anyone does or says is going to change that.”

Artemis bites the inside of her cheek before she softly admits, “I lied to you.”

Megan tilts her head, and Artemis takes that as a cue to continue.

“I lied a lot, to everyone. I told you my dad was living in another state and he’s a total douchebag, and that’s so true, but I never told you the real reason we moved here. I haven’t told  _anyone_.”

“Well, why not?” Megan presses.

“Because it’s  _hard_ ,” Artemis says quickly, not giving her voice a chance to break, and she pulls her hands out of Megan’s in order to tug at the end of the blanket, “I mean, how do you even have that conversation? Hey, nice to meet you, my dad’s a high profile thief and nearly got my whole family killed because of it, isn’t the weather nice today? That’s an icebreaker if there ever was one.”

“Well, don’t stop now,” Megan says, gently nudging Artemis’s arm.

“And it’s not like I want it following me for the rest of my life,” Artemis continues. “My childhood wasn’t  _normal_  in the slightest and when people find out all the details, I can’t get past it because that’s all they can see. I lived in Gotham for, what, maybe three months after my dad got busted? One person figured out who we were and after that, no matter where I went, all I heard was,  _Poor little Artemis, her dad’s a thief. Hope the apple falls far from that tree. Better hold onto my wallet a little tighter, just in case. Or Really? Paula is that woman? I’m surprised they didn’t take those girls away from her after all of that. Or Hey, Bill, did you hear? Those Crock girls just moved in downstairs. Guess the neighborhood really is going to the dogs, isn’t it?_ Everywhere,  _all_  the time. And those were just the adults. The kids were worse. And as much as I wish it didn’t bother me, it did. Jade and I got into so much trouble telling those people to mind their freakin’ own. So my mom moved us out here, for a fresh start in a new place where we didn’t have to live under a microscope.”

Artemis sighs and looks down at her hands as she continues, “When I met you at the park, I couldn’t get over how  _nice_  it was to have a conversation where I didn’t have to defend myself to a complete stranger. And I– I didn’t want that to go away, so as soon as I got home I made Jade and my mom  _swear_  to leave our past in the past.”

And they had done just that, with an apparent ease Artemis envied greatly.

“And that was it. After that, it was easy. A little lie here and there wasn’t going to hurt anyone. At least it wasn’t supposed to.” Artemis looks up and winces. “Sorry for ruining your party.”

“Woah,” Megan says, a wrinkle forming between her brows as she holds Artemis’s gaze, “ _you_  did not ruin the party. Cameron and his groupies did that, and then he had his meltdown.”

“Still,” Artemis says, shrugging, “it was a lot.  _This_  is a lot.”

“Yeah, it is,” Megan agrees with an understanding nod, “but I get it. I mean, when we met, I gave you directions to 7/11; you didn’t owe me your life story.”

This draws a laugh out of the both of them, but it burns out as quickly as it came.

Megan sighs slowly before she says, “You know, you still don’t owe me anything, right? You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to.”

“What happened to don’t stop?” Artemis half-jokes through a weak smile.

“Well, we all have our secrets.” Megan shrugs and smiles back. “Also, it’s late and I only do one big reveal a day.”

“So,” Artemis starts slowly, “we’re good?”

Megan nods. “We were never  _not_  good, dummy.”

Artemis smiles. “Good.”

Megan waits half a second before pouncing and giving Artemis a tight hug, a hug which she hastily returns with just as much feeling. When they release each other, Megan lies back on the bed, rolls off the side, and lands on the air mattress with a short laugh.

“Having fun?” Artemis asks, looking over the edge of the bed.

“Oodles.”

Artemis gives Megan time to get tucked in before she leans over and asks, “Hey, how’d you know I went home and not to the park?”

“I have my ways,” Megan says slyly.

Artemis snorts. “You went to the park and then came here.”

“No,” Megan laughs, “Wally told me when he came back.”

“Oh.” Artemis stills in confusion. “He went all the way back there?”

“Yeah, his bike was in the shed, and he tried to help clean up but I sent him home.”

“Hm,” Artemis murmurs before posing a question as nonchalantly as she can (which is to say not at all), “does he seem  _different_  to you?”

“Different how?” Megan asks, rising to her elbows.

“I dunno.  _Different_. Like, less..  _Wally_?” Artemis says his name like it means something, and that’s not even her first mistake.

“Ohhhh,” Megan gasps, quickly dropping back into the mattress and hiding her traitorous grin behind her hands, “you do like him.”

Even in the dark, Megan’s brown eyes sparkle with uncontained glee, and Artemis is torn between hiding under her pillow or tossing it in her so-called-friend’s face.

“I do not– Wait, what do you mean  _do_?”

“Well, I’ve had my suspicions but–”

“Suspicions from  _where_?” Artemis’s voice cracks.

“Um,  _everywhere_? You two were looking  _pret-ty_  close at my party.”

Artemis flops back into her bed, looks to the stars, and asks, “How’d you see that past Conner’s steely blue eyes?”

Megan presses on, unfazed. “And he walked you home.”

“He walked  _behind_  me, in the same direction. It was totally separate walking,” Artemis clarifies.

“You  _did_  talk a lot over the summer.”

“I talked to the mailman a lot, too,” Artemis says snarkily, leaning over the edge of the bed again. “Doesn’t mean I want to bone him.”

It’s the wrong thing to say; Artemis knows this the moment it leaves her mouth.

“Oh my god, you want to  _bone_  Wally.”

“What?” Artemis shrieks. “I didn’t say that!”

“You sound ready to smother me so I know I’m right. Aw, Artemis,” Megan presses her hands against her cheeks to soften her grin, “tell me I’m right. I want to be right  _so_  bad. This night’s been such a mess; let me  _have_  this.”

“Shut up,” Artemis whines, rising and turning in bed to face the window. “Aren’t you tired yet, Grandma?”

Megan props herself up, grinning from ear to ear. “I won’t be until you admit that you like him. Seriously, you two would be  _so_  cute together.”

Artemis feigns shutting her eyes and clips, “Sleep. Please.” To her surprise, this seems to do the trick, as there isn’t any immediate reply. Artemis settles into her bed and tries to follow her own orders, but curiosity and anxiety get the best of her only a minute later, and she makes the mistake of peering over the bed to see if Megan is still awake, which, obviously, she is.

The redhead quirks her eyebrow and holds Artemis’s gaze for a moment, as if determined to pry the truth out of her this very instant. It’s a good staring game, and she almost wins, but Artemis has had too much practice at this with Jade (even if she’s rarely won) and eventually, Megan flops back down to the air mattress with a dramatic sigh.

After a while, Artemis adds, “Even if I  _did_  like him–and I’m not saying I do– but if I  _did_ , I just  _couldn’t_ , you know?”

Megan doesn’t hesitate. “Couldn’t bone him?”

“ _No– God_ – Your mom is right. I’ve been a terrible influence on you. I just–” Artemis exhales loudly and flips onto her back as the words do backflips in her brain. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“The beginning, maybe?” Megan suggests before laughing shortly. “Remember when you threw an apple core at his head in middle school?”

Artemis snorts fondly. “I got lunch detention for it, so yeah.”

“You’ve come so far. I’m so proud,” says Megan, as she wipes a fake tear from her cheek.

“It’s so weird. I still can’t believe it. I don’t even know what happened. He has the  _nerve_  to stop being such a  _geek_  all the time and actually be nice and his hair freaking  _wooshes_  every chance it gets and it’s like, who the fuck gave Wally West permission to get hot? I have some choice words for them.”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank’ and ‘you’,” Megan giggles.

“And my words for  _you_  are ‘shut’ and ‘up’.”

“Well, I can’t help it,” Megan huffs goodnaturedly. “You’re never like this about a guy. I have to get my teasing in while I can. You tease me about Conner all the time. It’s only fair.”

“So this is, what, karma?”

“Justice,” Megan answers. “You have to tell him. Oh, oh, can I  _please_  be there? Not there there, obviously, but you’ll tell me when you tell him, right?”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Artemis says flatly. She rolls on her side and turns her face into the pillow, so the words she says next are only loud enough for herself to hear.

“Have fun waiting forever.”

* * *

 

For all the doomsday prepping they’ve done in the dead of night at countless sleepovers in the past, Artemis and Megan have no intricate survival strategy ready for what awaits them within the walls of Happy Harbor High on Monday morning.

Artemis takes it as a true sign of the end of times when they walk into Carr’s class and the room goes silent. She lingers in the doorway to watch her classmates avoid her eyes. Megan gently guides (pushes) her into the room just as the second bell rings. They sit in their usual seats and the chatter that usually fills the room before Carr snaps his fingers to start the day is noticeably absent.

_Perfect_ , Artemis thinks, holding her pencil so tightly it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap in half. The tip doesn’t hold up half as well, as it breaks as soon as she presses it against her notebook.

The rest of the day is full of the same stares and whispers, and had there been any other reason for people to be talking about her, Artemis would have been just fine, and Megan (and by extension Conner) would not be sticking to her like glue whenever possible despite her (quite vocal) protests. They’re part bulldozers, part brick walls; no one gets through to Artemis without their approval. And as much as Artemis would love for things to be a little more normal, she appreciates their enthusiasm.

Come lunch, she almost feels like a celebrity.

Megan keeps the conversation at the lunch table strictly about the party and the upcoming dance and Artemis could not be more grateful. Apparently, Megan’s party had been filled to the brim with dramatic moments even before Cameron showed up. Halfway through Bette’s story about catching some freshmen in a coat closet, Artemis loses interest and rests her head on her folded arms on the table. From her position at the edge of the table, she can see most of the quad, including the table where Wally and his friends usually congregate.

Artemis taps her feet against the ground as she contemplates her next move and watches Wally furiously write something at his table. She already  _knows_  it’s the history packet that’s due next period, but there’s a voice egging her on in her head (the one that sounds suspiciously like Megan) saying,  _Go tell him._

“Hurry, lunch is almost over. I want to watch,” Megan whispers into her ear, a little louder.

Artemis raises her head and gives Megan a withering look. Megan just smiles back.

“Absolutely not,” Artemis says, turning back to look at Wally.

“Please,” Megan quietly begs.

“Nope.”

Artemis watches Wally flip the pages of his homework back and forth and back and forth before he places his pencil and highlighter down and smiles victoriously to himself. It is only by chance that when he glances up he catches her staring. The smile slips off of his face faster than she can look away, so she’s forced to watch his expression flatline before he quickly looks away.  _Ouch_.

“I am going”–Artemis abruptly addresses half of the table as she stands and picks up her backpack–“to the bathroom.”

“Boo,” Megan says next to her, pouting childishly as she starts to pick up her own backpack.

Artemis shakes her head and starts walking. “No entourage. I think I can handle this myself. I’ll see you guys in the locker room later.”

A chorus of ‘ _later_ ’s send her off before they return to their regularly scheduled post-party debrief. Artemis can feel Megan’s disappointed gaze on her back as she walks out of the quad towards the classrooms. As much as she’d love to rip the bandaid off and get out of the limbo of not knowing, Artemis knows that confessing in the middle of the quad in front of half of the cross country team is not ideal. Things like this need to be done more discreetly. Megan will have to hear what happens secondhand.

Artemis walks straight past the bathrooms and enters Ms. Lance’s classroom with one thought in mind:

_Today’s the day._

* * *

 

Wally walks into history class just before the late bell rings and sits down behind her without giving her a single glance.

The note folded up underneath Artemis’s hand is covered in shitty eraser marks and more than a few scribbles, but it’s sincere and that’s really all she has to offer. A series of  _what ifs_  creep into her mind as she prepares to pass it back when Ms. Lance tells them to pass up their homework. What if she’s wrong? What if it sounds too weird? What if the  _everything_  Megan had been talking about had been something else entirely?

As Ms. Lance sets up the documentary they’re scheduled to watch on the projector, Artemis unfolds her note and reads it three times. As soon as she reads the last line for the last time, she panics, crumbles the note up, and stuffs it into her backpack.

_This is so stupid_ , she yells internally.

After Ms. Lance passes each row a question sheet to go along with the documentary, Artemis peels a sticky note out of her binder, scribbles a quick  _Thanks for walking me home. I owe you one. -A_ on it, and posts it on Wally’s question sheet before she passes the paper to him.

She spends the rest of class waiting for a note that never comes.

No matter how many times the opportunity arises for him to successfully pass a message along, not one piece of paper with even a short  _No problem_  written on it makes it to her. Each passing moment makes Artemis more nervous. Her pencil taps against her desk in time with her foot tapping against the floor. She manages to fill in most of the question sheet even as her focus keeps flipping from the material on the screen to the figurative radio silence from the boy behind her.

It feels like an eternity before Ms. Lance turns on the lights and the bell rings. People turn in their papers to her as they file out of the room.

Artemis is the last to hand in her question sheet and she walks out of the room in a slight daze, wondering how on Earth she just got  _ghosted_  in person.

* * *

 

There’s something soothingly satisfying about the sound Artemis’s arrow makes when it hits the center of a practice target. It’s too bad she hasn’t been able to hit one all  _goddamn_  day.

Artemis’s eyes flit from her target to the tarp roof and walls of their temporary shooting range. Maybe it’s the new range that’s getting to her. She just needs time to adjust. That’s all it is.

To her left, Roy releases an arrow and Artemis watches it fly straight into the center of the practice target.

“Money,” Roy fake-whispers to himself, as he oh-so-unfortunately often does.

After making a mental note to see if Jade knows about  _that_ , Artemis takes a deep breath and roughly releases it through her nose.

Just one damn shot, she thinks, setting her shoulders back and narrowing her gaze at the target. Please.

But the tension in her shoulders, bruises on her knuckles, and mess in her mind keep Artemis from landing a single, spot-on shot and it  _sucks_.

A bunch of teens talking about her is one thing, but that doesn’t bother her has as much as Wally completely blowing her off. Maybe “ _Maybe_ ” wasn’t a good mindset to hold onto after all. She should have been more realistic. Wally probably searched “Who is Crusher Crock” over the weekend and decided she was more trouble than she was worth. Artemis sighs heavily as another arrow hits the dirt underneath the target.

There has to be a better explanation than that. Maybe he feels bad for her and doesn’t know how to treat her anymore. The look of pity he gave her back at the party flashes through her mind just as she releases another arrow. This one hits the top of the tarp and falls to the ground at the end of her lane.

“Okay, enough,” Roy says, quickly stepping forward to stop her from yanking another arrow out of their shared bucket.

“What gives?” Artemis asks with a huff, holding her bow closer to her before he can take that too.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you’re out here shooting worse  _than_ that human disaster,” Roy jerks his thumb towards where Coach Queen is currently confiscating the bow from Lori Lemaris’s panicked hands, “I feel like I have a moral obligation to make sure you don’t hurt somebody.”

Artemis blows a piece of loose hair away from her face and sardonically asks, “Haven’t you heard? I already have. You’re a little late.”

Roy scoffs. “Of course I’ve heard. Even if Jade  _hadn’t_  filled me in, the whole school has been talking about it all day– and you want to know what I think?”

“Not really,” Artemis deadpans.

“You should’ve kicked him,” Roy continues, pretending not to hear her. “Why the hell are you risking your hand when we have a qualifier next week? With Lori on deck, we need all the points we can get.”

“Aw, Roy, I didn’t know you cared,” Artemis says, rolling her eyes as she takes a seat on a bench near the edge of the shooting range and pretends to pick away invisible fibers from her bowstring.

Roy takes her lead and sits down beside her, but before he can say a word, Artemis silences him with her sharp eyes.

“You’re in a good mood,” she says accusingly, pointing the tip of her bow towards him.

“It happens,” Roy says flippantly, using a finger to push the bow away from him.

Artemis warily asks, “Is this a Jade thing?”

“I thought you said we were done talking about Jade,” Roy retorts, picking up a water bottle from underneath the bench.

“It  _is_ , isn’t it?”

“It is  _not_  a Jade thing, or an any thing. Who are you? The mood police?”

“No, it’s just that Jade was weirdly nice at breakfast this morning and that usually means one of two things. She won a fight or she got–”

“ _O-kay_ ,” Roy interrupts her quickly, harmlessly thwacking Artemis’s arm with his nearly empty water bottle, “no more talking about Jade. If you want to talk, let’s talk about what’s turning your shots to shit.”

“That’s personal. We don’t go there,” Artemis reminds him.

Roy shakes his head. “Oh, trust me, I’ve been  _there_  longer than you think.”

“Wait, what?” Artemis asks, turning to face Roy fully. “You already knew? About my dad?”

“Well, yeah,” Roy says, shrugging. “After I found out you and Jade were sisters, I had some questions and, surprisingly enough, Jade gave me more answers than I expected.”

Artemis waits a few seconds before she asks, “And?”

Roy rolls his eyes at her. “And what? She’s my girlfriend and you’re the little blackmailer who keeps trying to break my records. It is what it is.”

“Yeah.” Artemis nods slowly, appreciating Roy’s indifference.

“I can’t believe she just up and told you,” she admits after a moment, a bit miffed that Jade would spill the beans so easily.

Roy sucks his teeth before he says, “Oh, don’t bring this up with her. She said if I ever told you she told me, she’d tell Dinah we let Sin watch  _The Bride of Chucky._ ”

“You did?”

“Of course not, but Jade would still tell her that.”

Artemis wrinkles her nose. “Ugh, why do you like her again?”

“Well,” Roy’s brow creases for a moment before he shrugs and says, “I don’t know. She gets me? Also, I think if I  _didn’t_  love her, I’d probably hate her.”

“That’s kind of fucked up,” Artemis says dryly.

“That’s life sometimes,” Roy says, clapping his hand against the bench and nodding towards the stadium bleachers in the distance. “I meant what I said about taking it easy on that hand. You need to let off some steam, constructively, and since you’re banned from using any more projectiles for today– hey, it’s for the greater good– you can go run. I’ll tell Oliver you’re conditioning.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Artemis says, smartly saluting him as she rises from the bench.

Roy raises his hand for her to stop. “Hold up. One request. Can we go back to doing that thing where I pretend not to care and you pretend to hate my guts? This was nice and all, but I have a reputation to uphold.” A small grin edges its way up his lips.

Artemis waves him off as she picks up her backpack and sports bag on her way out of the shooting range. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, you big softie.”

“Get out of here, Blondie,” he calls out after her.

“Stuff it, Archie.”

Artemis jogs all the way to the stadium bleachers with her backpack and sports bag in hand. She drops them at the bottom of the bleachers before she picks a set of stairs and starts running. With each step, her mind goes over the gameplan to solve The Wally Problem (this in addition to her usual bleacher mantra of ‘ _Don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip_ ’).

She comes to the conclusion that living between knowing and not knowing is no way to live. She should’ve just given him the original note in history and been done with it. Her cards would be on the table, plain as day, and if things went wrong, she’d get over it (though she’d really like it if things went right this time). Anything is better than being ignored (and if he is going to ignore her, he could at least have the decency to give her a reason why).

Halfway through her set, she decides to trash the note in her backpack and just talk to him face-to-face. No more hiding behind pieces of paper. While it would be a hell of a lot easier to write it out and chuck it in his general direction, she knows this needs to be done a certain way. She is going to tell him about her Big Feelings, and he is going to listen.

Artemis spends the rest of her run thinking of ways to talk about said feelings without sounding like a complete weirdo. It takes a concerningly long amount of time for her to settle on something, and her aching feet and burning lungs thank her when she reaches the bottom stair. She plucks her water bottle out of her bag before climbing back up at a walk to cool down.

A few rows from the top, she stops, lies down on her back on the bleacher, and laments not wearing a hat before flipping over onto her stomach. Through the gaps between the rows, she spots a small pile of backpacks surrounding one of the support beams. The collection remains undisturbed for only a while, though, as two familiar figures– one raven haired and the other red– jog into view.  _What kind of luck._

“Jay really ran us ragged out there today,” Wally says, taking a seat on the grass near the backpacks and stretching out his legs. “Become one with my feet, my shoes have.”

“At least you didn’t have to deal with Tommy trying to tackle you halfway across the field,” Conner says, sitting beside Wally and rolling his shoulders back. “I’m telling you, if Artemis hadn’t already met our violence quota…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. You saw what went on with their freakin’ leader in Cross’ class.” Wally snorts. “Chucking my backpack at his head would’ve been worth the detention, by the way.”

Conner shakes his head and pulls his backpack closer to himself. “That was  _my_ backpack and no, it wouldn’t have been. They really don’t know when to quit, do they? I’d bet an entire pizza they were the ones who put tuna in Kaldur’s locker this morning.”

Artemis narrows her eyes and adds  _that_  bit of information to her list of Things Deserving of Retribution.

“Definitely,” Wally agrees pensively, and there’s a slight pause before he moans. “ _Dude_ , we’ve talked about this. No more food talk right after practice. It’s painful. Plus, I can’t believe you’d risk a  _whole_  pizza. Go half, at most. If you bet half of a whole pizza and lose, you still have the other half.”

“What if you’re buying by the slice?” Conner asks, pulling a water bottle out of his backpack.

“That wasn’t what you said.”

“But  _what if_?”

“Fine,” Wally relents. “If you’re buying by the slice, then you must not be confident in whatever it is you’re betting on. At that point, you shouldn’t even make the bet. Go big or go home.”

“Hm… Speaking of going big,” Conner segues, rubbing the back of his neck, “Megan asked me to ask her to the dance by the end of the week.”

Artemis, intrigued, dares to peek further and get a better look through the stands. Megan had told her she’d been dropping  _hints_ , but since the girl is about as subtle as an Independence Day fireworks show, Artemis doesn’t doubt Megan said something to that effect.

Wally winces, not totally sympathetic but definitely trying to be. “Oof, tight deadline this time around, dude. She gave you a  _month_  for the Swing Dance last year.”

“Yeah, and I think she wants it to be some sort of– I don’t know,”–Conner waves his hand in the air–“grand gesture? She made it seem like it should be a big deal.”

“Oh, it  _has_  to be a big deal. It’s  _Homecoming_ , not Spring Fling,” Wally explains matter-of-factly, pointing the end of his sports drink at Conner.

Conner sighs, and Artemis can practically feel him rolling his eyes as he says, “It’s going to be just like the last one.”

“You know, this kind of attitude is exactly why Megs has to give you a timeline,” Wally says, raising an accusatory brow at his friend as he takes a sip of his sports drink.

Artemis takes her own swig to  _that_.  

Conner bristles. “Yeah, well, what about you? Have you asked Artemis yet?”

_What?_

Artemis nearly chokes on the last of her water and stiffens to stay hidden on the bleacher as she muffles her coughs. Luckily, Wally is too busy choking on his own drink to notice her.

“ _What_?” Wally asks once the worst of the fit subsides, voicing Artemis’s own train of thought (though her  _What_  sounds more like a flatlining heart monitor).

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Conner says, giving the still-coughing Wally a hard pat on the back for good measure.

Wally takes a long, dramatic breath before he says, “I am  _not_  dramatic. You just surprised me. What makes you think I want to ask  _Artemis_  to the dance?”

There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, one strangely opposite to what she’s become used to feeling when he says her name. It’s different this time, as if asking her of all people to the dance would be as terrible an idea as asking Medusa to be your optometrist.

“Um,” Conner starts with an air of sarcasm, “I don’t know, maybe it’s the  _everything_  about you two.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wally laughs him off.

Conner doesn’t buy it. “Sure, you don’t.”

“Look, after everything that happened this weekend…” Wally trails off, shaking his head. “I just– I don’t–”

“If you’re  _that_  scared, ask her to go just as friends,” Conner advises (with an air of authority Artemis is  _pretty_  sure he doesn’t have on this matter).

_Or, you know, he could just talk to her_ , Artemis thinks, hanging on every word.

“Ugh, dude, you don’t get it,” Wally says after a moment, and he continues with all the certainty in the world, “I don’t  _want_  to be her friend.”

Artemis, de-statuified, flinches hard enough to send her now-empty water bottle careening off the side of the bleacher bench and straight through the gap right above Wally. The plastic cracks against the top of his head and he yelps in pain.

Conner, quite dexterously, catches the bottle mid-air, looks up, and  _regrets_  (if the curse he mouths is any indication).

“What the heck?” Wally asks, one hand on his head.

He tilts his head upwards and scans the stands above him, and Artemis pinpoints the moment he realizes exactly who she is.

“Whoops,” she says flatly, loudly, as she fights the urge to take off her shoe and drop it down, too, because the bottle couldn’t have hurt Wally as much as his words hurt her, which she would personally liken to a Buffy-style stake to the heart (talk about flatlining). It was one thing for her to think he might feel that way, but to actually hear him say the words sends all of her plans straight into the garbage.

“ _Artemis_?” Wally asks with a gasp, still rubbing at the spot the bottle hit his head. “Hey–I–”

Artemis doesn’t bother listening, not that she’s able to hear him as she makes her way down the bleachers at a record pace with thundering steps and remarkable grace. She plucks her backpack out from under the bottom row of seats, puts it on, and makes a beeline for her bike in the parking lot at the other end of the stadium. The signs and posters about the upcoming dance and class elections tied to the fences blur as she she rushes away, and her feet slam against the pavement, filled with every pushed down emotion she refuses to set free.

_Not here. Not here._

Her theory had been wrong. Knowing was worse than not knowing. Knowing unleashed a whole new flood of questions.

What had she been thinking? Had Wally played her, or had she played herself? Had it been the fucking  _woosh_ , putting  _thoughts_  into her head, making her see things that were  _obviously_  not there? If only it was that easy.

But what if it  _had_  been there? What if everything had been real and good until the party? What if Wally couldn’t just say ‘ _It is what it is’_  like Roy did and that be that? That thought alone makes her walk faster. He couldn’t handle it. That was it. She doesn’t even has to ask why because he said it himself.

_After everything that happened…_

She passes the shooting range, narrowly avoids bumping into Roy, and doesn’t look back when he calls out her name. For a split second, she thinks he calls her again, but upon closer listening, she hears that it’s another person calling out her name (and it’s a bit dangerous for him to do so considering she wants to put Jade and Roy’s advice to use and punt him across the football field for making her feel this way).

By the time she reaches the bike racks in the parking lot, Artemis decides she’s had  _enough_  for one day. She makes a run for her bike and rushes to unlock it from the rack, but when she moves to pull it out, the front tire detaches from the frame.

“What the  _fuck_?!” Artemis shouts, her eyes blazing as she holds up her bike frame. “Who the  _fuck_ –”

Stupid question.

Artemis grits her teeth as she picks up her detached and undeniably flat tire. “Go to fucking hell, Cam.”

She quickly scans the ground for the missing pieces of her bike, but her chances of finding them are slim to none, considering Cameron probably took them and Wally’s getting closer. With her options limited, Artemis carries her bike frame in one hand and her tire in the other and starts walking.

“Artemis, hold on!”

“Go away! You walk me home, you act like my friend, and what?” The bite in her words increases even as her voice breaks. “You didn’t talk to me  _all day_  and  _now_  you have something to say?”

Artemis swings around, placing half of her bike between them. For a moment his face lights up with hope, but then he looks her in the eye and that quickly changes. Jade’s words flash through her mind and slip through her lips with a venom just as  _Jade_.

“You know what?” she asks slowly, inconcealable anguish dulling the edges of her words. “I’ve heard enough. I’m  _done_. Whatever problem you have with me, it’s  _your_  problem. Not mine. You don’t want to be friends? That’s your  _loss_ ,  _Wallman_. If I needed friends like you, I’d go hang out with the jerk who did this.” She raises the wheel in her hand and uses it to (rather restrainedly) push Wally further away.

Wally cringes and holds a piece of the tire as he quickly says, “Look, Artemis, that’s not what I–”

The screeching of brakes overpowers Wally’s words.

Artemis never thought she’d see salvation in the form of Roy’s ancient pickup truck waiting at the curb, but there it is.

“Are you bothering her, Wally?” Roy asks, as he steps out of the truck with a menacing glare on his face. He glances at Artemis’s broken bike, and his glare gets worse. “Did he do that?”

“What? No!” Wally shouts, frustratedly releasing the tire and taking a step back.

“This,” Artemis says, slightly lifting up her bike frame, “was Cameron and his stupid friends.”

“Yeah,  _Roy_ ,” Wally interjects crossly. “Why on Earth would you think I’d do–”

“That,” Artemis interrupts, nodding her head towards Wally, “is  _really_  bothering me.”

Roy nods his head a few times before taking hold of the bike frame.

“You, get in the truck,” he says to Artemis, “I’ll put this in the back and drive you home.” Then he turns to Wally. “You, leave her alone.”

Artemis wastes no time sliding into the truck’s passenger seat. She places her tire at her feet and puts her backpack and bag over it. Through the rear view mirror, Artemis watches Roy load her bike into the bed of the truck and tell Wally to scram (at least, that’s what it looks like. Reading lips in a mirror is hard, okay?).

“What a freakin’ day,” Artemis mutters to herself as she tries to calm down.

Roy doesn’t say a word when he enters the truck, buckles his seatbelt, and pulls out of the parking lot going well above the 15 miles per hour speed limit. Artemis watches Wally disappear in the side view mirror and it’s then, when she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, that she realizes she’s crying. She swipes the few tear tracks on her face out of existence with the back of her hand and wonders just how long she’s been doing that.

“Glove compartment, left side,” Roy instructs her, not taking his eyes off the road.

Artemis opens the compartment in front of her and pulls out a small packet of tissues.

“Thanks,” Artemis says, and she knows Roy knows it’s for more than just the tissues.

“No biggie,” Roy says nonchalantly. “I owed you one.”

He turns up the radio and the hits of the 2000s drown out the sound of her sniffling. The eight minute drive to her house gives Artemis’s just enough time to pull herself together before she sees her mother. When Roy slows to a stop in front of her house, Artemis gathers her bags, tire, and used tissues and gets out of the truck.

“Leave the tire.” Roy sticks his arm out of the open driver’s side window and plucks the tire from her hands. “Oliver and I will put your bike back together this weekend. Do you need rides until then?”

“I- uh- thanks, Roy,” Artemis says, slowly walking backwards towards her front door. “I’ll catch a ride with Conner, though, he lives just down the street. You don’t have to go out of your way.”

“Alright, then,” Roy says, nodding. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Artemis nods gratefully as Roy closes his window and pulls out into the street to make a U-turn. When he’s out of sight, she unlocks the front door and rushes inside. She makes it about three steps in before her mother looks over from the couch and stops her.

“Artemis,” Paula says, surprised, “you’re home early.”

“I have a lot of homework,” Artemis says quickly, avoiding her mother’s eyes as she slowly walks towards her room. “Super important project. Gotta get it done.”

Paula smiles and nods. “There’s chicken and rice in the kitchen if you’re hungry, but don’t take it to your room.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll eat later,” Artemis says, sending her mother a small smile before booking it to her bedroom.

Artemis closes the door to her room behind her and immediately tosses her bag and backpack to the floor. The thin smile she’d given her mother crumbles into a pained grimace as she balls her fists and mentally screams. A new flood of tears blurs her vision and this time she doesn’t bother trying to stop them from falling.

_Why did I do this? What was I thinking? Stupid freaking boys and their stupid freaking stupid heads._

She crouches down, opens her backpack, and pulls out the crumpled up note she never passed during history class. She crumples it up some more for good measure before tossing it into the trash can in the corner of the room. It feels  _really good._

_So why stop there?_

Artemis reaches deep underneath her bed and pulls her shoebox full of letters into the light. Just  _looking_  at the pile of envelopes sends waves of frustration through her bones. She pulls out a thick stack from the box and nearly tears them all in half, but she stops herself just before the edges can rip.

“Fuck– nope, what am I doing?” she says, huffing before she throws the letters back into the box and runs her hands over her face. “Get a  _grip_.”

Sitting on the floor crying in the middle of her room over a boy.  _What a way to spend the afternoon_. Artemis kicks the shoebox away from her. It topples over, spins out, and sends envelopes sliding across the floor.  _Perfect_.

Her cell phone buzzes from inside the front pocket of her backpack, and she doesn’t have to look to know it’s Megan (the Kim Possible theme song vibration pattern is telling enough).

_This doesn’t feel right_ , Artemis thinks to herself, staring at the mess of envelopes in front of her. Her phone keeps buzzing.

Each envelope holds a letter and each letter contains a mixture of digs, jokes, and the occasional  _sentiment_. It isn’t until she sees them scattered on the ground that Artemis realizes that the reason she can’t just tear them to shreds is because they mean something to her. They mean a summer’s worth of waiting for the mailman, a book of stamps, and a friendship she can’t just throw away, no matter how upset she is. Maybe it’s easy enough for Wally to say he doesn’t want to be her friend, but the pile of letters he wrote make it hard for her to just sit down and accept that.

So she won’t. Not like this, sniffling on her bedroom floor. Nope.

Artemis rises and takes a seat on her bed. She takes a deep breath, wipes away the traces of her tears, and decides to return to Plan A.

In the next minute, she gathers all the envelopes, shoves them into the shoebox, walks towards the door, and ignores her still-buzzing phone.

_Sorry, Megan, you’re going to have to wait._

Artemis has her hand on the doorknob when a rapid rapping at her window turns her around.

_Or not._

“How’d she get here so fast?” Artemis mutters to herself, moving across the room to the window. “I’m coming.”

She sets the box of letters on her bed before she pulls back the curtain and freezes.

The wrong redhead stands before her, flushed and jumpy, holding a piece of paper against the window. Artemis skims the top line–

_Your mom wouldn’t let me in so you’re going to have to read this._

– and immediately drops the curtain closed.

Artemis looks back at her backpack, where her phone is still ringing, and thinks she  _probably_  should have answered that.

Wally knocks at the window again.

_Oh, fuck it._

Artemis exhales softly, shoves open the curtain, and lifts the window up in one motion.

“The window opens, dumbass.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment. Every comment gives me more motivation to finish the next chapter faster. Let me know what you'd like to see or what you think will happen in the last chapter! Thank you!


	5. the one with the confessions

pt.5: the one with the confessions

-o-

“Oh–” Wally looks from the open window to the paper in his hand “–that’s convenient.”

“Sure is,” Artemis says, the tension in her tone ebbing as she holds the window up higher. “What are you doing here?”

Wally tilts his head before he asks, “Can we talk?”

“Nope,” Artemis replies, and after a long second, she shakes her head and raises the window higher. “Not like this anyways. My mom will hear us and then it’ll be a _thing_. Move.”

He moves, stepping so far backwards that he nearly bumps into the fence behind him. Artemis climbs out of the open window to join Wally on the side of the house. She closes the window behind her softly and turns around to face He-Who-Has-A-Lot-Of-Explaining-To-Do.

 A tactical error, Artemis immediately realizes. Leaving the safety of her room was not smart. On the other side of the window, she had the high ground and the easy escape. If things went badly, she could simply close the window, shut the curtains, and be done with that. Not so easy to get back in with the window closed (not to mention it’d be life-threateningly embarrassing to run away by diving through an open window to get back into her room).

 She looks at Wally and waits for him to say something, but he looks as lost as she feels and neither one of them makes a move to speak. After a healthy bout of mental screaming, Artemis steels herself and gets ready to get some answers.

 “I didn’t mean what I said,” Wally blurts in the same moment Artemis asks, “Did you mean what you said?”

 “I didn’t,” Wally repeats, before he backtracks. “Well, actually, no, I did mean it, but not for the reason you think.”

 “Which reason do _you_ think I’m thinking of? Because there are many,” Artemis says evenly, her voice low. “You avoided me all day. You didn’t write me back in History. And then you were telling Conner what exactly? What did you even _mean_ when you said that it’s because of what happened at the party? Go ahead and tell me what happened there because I thought we were having a good time and then– I mean, you walked me home and _what_ ? What _changed_ for you because I–” she inhales sharply before she tries again, “I thought we were–”

_Okay_ , so she’d been talking big game earlier when she’d planned out saying all of this out loud. Thinking was one thing. Actually telling him? Harder than anticipated. Luckily, Wally also has no idea what he’s doing, judging by the way his mouth keeps opening and shutting.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me I was so off base to think we were friends?” Artemis finally asks, jumping to her point and taking a step forward. “I think that was the worst part, wondering how you could just drop me without having the decency to tell me why.”

 “ _This_ is why,” Wally finally says, hastily holding up the paper in his hand. “Well, this is a lot of whys, actually, but they’re all true. I wasn’t trying to avoid you. I was going to give this to you in History but I chickened out and I’ve put my foot in my mouth too many times today so just read it, alright? It’s all there.”

 Artemis tentatively takes the note from him and gives him one last wary look before she starts reading. Scribbled at the top in thick, black marker is a small note.

  _Your mom wouldn’t let me in so you’re going to have to read this._ _I have made a ridiculous amount of mistakes today and the first was not giving this to you when I should have. I hope it clears things up._

  _M_ _e too,_ Artemis thinks before she begins to read the original note.

_Hey, so I’ve been thinking (shocking, I know) and I have come to the conclusion that I think about you too often. (_ In the margins is a star and a tiny note: _*That sounded way less creepy in my head, please roll with it)._

_Obviously, this is an issue. At first, I didn’t even notice it was happening. It was little stuff in the summer, like I’d see something funny and think “I need to tell Artemis about that” or “Artemis would love that”. And I’d chuck those things into a letter, send it off, and wait for a response. Mail day was definitely a highlight of my week._

_Maybe that doesn’t seem like a big deal, but when I got back to HH, I was pretty bummed that I wouldn’t get to send you all of the things I wanted you to know about. You’ve been missing out on some quality stories, trust me. And then it sucked even more because I wasn’t getting a letter from you. I guess what I’m trying to get at is that I missed talking to you. (Your letters saved me from a radio-silent summer. Definitely owe you for that. When does this cap out, Artemis? I’m going to owe you a lifetime’s worth of favors if this gets any higher.)_

_Ever increasing debt aside, I wasn’t really aware of how much I Thought about you until we came back to school and I got so excited to tell you things that my brain kind of crashed whenever you were around. Okay, not kind of. It was a full blown Blue Screen of Death kind of crashing. I must have a really good autopilot or something because I don’t remember half of the things I said to you the first week back and we’re still friends._

_Crazy, right? That’s what I thought at first. I think that was just me living (comfortably) in denial. To tell you the truth, I could’ve stayed there had it not been for this weekend (so I guess it wasn’t a_ _total_ _disaster). I was actually having a great time until the Eggsplosion. We did good work out there (they saw us in the window, Conner says we are not forgiven). I know I didn’t say it at the party but you looked really nice. You always look nice._

_On my way back to Megan’s, I had a lot of time to Think and in case you haven’t guessed by now, I spent most of that time thinking about you. I know we didn’t exactly get along back in the day (there were better ways of getting my attention than throwing an apple at my head), but we’ve come a long way, right? I know you better now. You’re practically my best friend, and that’s great, but at the party, between getting irrationally jealous of Kaldur (please tell me it was irrational, I can’t compete with that guy) and walking you home, I realized that I don’t want to be your friend, even if you are the best friend anyone could have. You’re always there for your friends (even if you do like to fake it’s all because you like being owed favors). You are incredibly kind, and funny, and smart, and even kind of dorky (in a good way). And after everything that went down this weekend, I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize that I like you. Like you like you._

_Maybe this is all in my head, but I think you like me too._

_I thought returning to our preferred method of communication would make this easier (considering you’re amazing and I am but a mere mortal) but it turns out I ramble just as much on paper as I do out loud._

_Now, back to the issue. I’m thinking a solution for all of this Thinking might be for us to spend more time together, as more than friends, you know, so I’m too busy being with you to Think about you. That’s just a suggestion. A theory really. We should test it. Step one is me giving you this note. Step two is on you (last favor, I swear)._

_Go back and read the first letter of every paragraph. (Please)._

_?_

“Oh,” Artemis says, quite eloquently, as she slowly folds the note in half. 

“ _Oh_?” Wally asks.

“Oh,” Artemis repeats smartly, sending him a slow-growing smile. “I’d say you should have given me that earlier but then I’d be a hypocrite. One sec.”

 Artemis takes a step back and opens her window.

 She turns to Wally and asks, “Hold this?”

 Wally obliges, holding the window open as Artemis climbs back into her bedroom.

 Artemis tosses Wally’s letter on top of the shoebox on her bed before she heads straight for the trash can. The note she wrote for Wally before History class is crumpled and sticking to a piece of gum, but it’s the content that counts, right? She picks up the note, tosses the gum into the trash, and tries her best to straighten out the note as she makes her way back to the window to present him with it.

“ _This_ is for you,” she says, trading the note for holding the window. “I was going to give it to you in History, but I chickened out.”

 Watching Wally’s face as he reads the note is oddly anxiety-inducing considering he basically wrote her what she wrote him (from _Eggsplosion_ to the confession to the Homecoming offer). She had strung her thoughts together in a far less coherent and methodological way than Wally did, but the sentiment remained the same. _I like you,_ he’d written. _Like you like you._ It takes a massive amount of willpower to keep from laughing, as she’d included those exact words in her note too.

Wally doesn’t hold out long. He laughs, hard, tossing his head back – _woosh–_ and then he looks at her with an incredulous grin that she mirrors.

“Telling someone how much you used to hate them isn’t exactly a great way to tell them you like them, you know?”

“Well, I had to start somewhere,” Artemis says, defending her note. “You didn’t leave out the apple either.”

Wally laughs fade out as he folds her note and stuffs it into his pocket. He takes up the responsibility of holding the window open.

“So?” Artemis asks.

“ _So_ ,” Wally starts slowly, leaning forward and very clearly enjoying himself, “if my debts are paid, I’m assuming we’re all square for the dance?”

“All right angles.” Artemis answers, unable to rein in her smile.

“Great,” Wally says, tentatively adding, “it’s a date then.”

“It is,” Artemis affirms, nodding.

And for a long moment, they silently revel in the light of their new understanding, or as Jade would say, they stand there smiling at each other like complete tools. Either way, Artemis can’t help but feel like everything and nothing has changed at the same time.

“One more thing,” Artemis says, leaning closer, “how did you get here so quickly?”

Wally nods his head towards the front of the house. “Conner’s waiting in the driveway. He drove me here.”

“He’s been out there this _whole_ time?” Artemis asks, quickly poking her head out the window to try and see.

“I told them not to wait up, but they refused,” Wally answers, unable to move with Artemis half-out the window.

Artemis stands up straight and looks at him with wide eyes. “ _Them_?”

Wally slowly admits, “Megan and Kara are also in the car.”

“Are you serious?” Artemis says, shaking her head. She _definitely_ should have answered her phone.

“I had _no_ say in this. I was walking here when Conner drove up behind me and told me to get in. They were already there.”

“Oh my god, okay, time for you to get out of here,” Artemis says, and in the second it takes for Wally to move an inch backwards, Artemis makes another decision. “Wait–”

Artemis, half-leaning out the window, takes Wally’s face in her hands and kisses him squarely on the mouth, and the same feeling that’d stunned her in the halls that first day of school returns in full force. This time, she embraces it. By the time they part, they’re both breathless and it takes a moment to return to reality.

 “Okay,” Artemis says, backing into her room with a clearer head, “ _now_ you can get out of here.”

 Wally blinks himself out of his daze before he grins, steps back, and says, “Should’ve done that a long time ago.”

 “No kidding,” Artemis laughs, taking hold of the window. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 Wally nods, even as he walks backwards towards the front of the house. He disappears around the corner with a wave, but Artemis waits for the sound of Conner’s truck pulling onto the road and heading down the street before she shuts the window and closes the curtains behind her.

Her hand comes up to her lips as she tries to wrap her head around the last few hours of her day (even as her _thoughts_ keep replaying the last few minutes). Two knocks at her door pull her right out of her _thoughts_.

“Now that he’s gone, can I ask how that _super important_ project is coming along?” Her mother asks through the door.

_Busted_ , Artemis thinks, wincing, but her smile returns the instant she glances at the letter on the box on her bed.

_Totally worth it._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, as this fic has taken so much of my time/energy (which is why this ch is so much shorter than the last) and I really find inspiration to continue by reading what you guys like about it. (Also, please try not to ask when the next update will be because it causes me stress which leads to longer wait times.)


End file.
